


Sunset Glow

by idontevenlogic



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: #hqbb2018, Alcohol, Blood and Gore, Decapitation, Fire, Guns, Kissing, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Supernatural - Freeform, Swearing, Swords, Violence, geysers of blood, iwa gets horny when he's bitten, just lots of gory fighting, not the cute kind but the rip your head off kind, organs everywhere, people are getting cut in half, references to mafia and yakuza, tarantino style fighting, there's a lawn mower used to kill at one point, unconventional getting together, vague smut, violent biting, wow criminals sure do swear a lot in my fics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-09-13 19:33:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idontevenlogic/pseuds/idontevenlogic
Summary: Ever since Sugawara Koushi inherited the Sunset Motel, his life was nothing short of mundane. However, on a stormy, winter night several interesting individuals make a dramatic appearance, all asking for the same mysterious guy called Oikawa Tooru. It seemed normal-ish at first, but gradually Suga and his employees eavesdrop and begin to understand that their guests aren't normal, they might be contracted killers and drug dealers.And once Oikawa Tooru appears on the scene, things go from precarious to hellish, and everything Suga has ever known is flipped upside down. His rinse and repeat life gets a little bloodier than he'd like.





	1. HOUSE OF THE RISING SUN

**Author's Note:**

> Well I have certainly been gone a while now and it was to write this piece for Haikyuu!! Big Bang 2018! This was my first ever bang so I'm really excited and proud that this is the fic I put up. It's a bit darker than some of my other stuff, but I think it's a fun read and I hope you all enjoy it! I worked really hard on it!
> 
> I was so lucky to be paired with Kat on this project! This is [Kat’s Twitter!](https://twitter.com/tendouaf?lang=en) and [Kat’s Tumblr!](http://kat-doodles.tumblr.com) and of course her [ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/miracleboysatori/pseuds/miracleboysatori) because who doesn’t love quality UshiTen? If you love Ushijima and Tendou, then you definitely want to read her fics!
> 
> All the chapters are done and ready so they'll be posted super really quickly as soon as I'm done with final grammar and spelling checks! This isn't beta'd so any mistakes are all on me and I'm really sorry about that.
> 
> I hope you enjoy your stay at the Sunset Motel!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Oh mother, tell your children  
> Not to do what I have done  
> Spend your life in sin and misery  
> In the House of the Rising Sun"  
> —House of the Rising Sun by The Animals

The Sunset Motel.

In all honesty, it’s not what you think it is, not in the slightest. Or, at least, not anymore.

Sugawara Koushi inherited the motel when he was barely twenty-five years old. His grandparents had passed away, leaving him their “grandest achievement” for him to take care of because he was “such a good and well-well-mannered boy,” who always did what he was told to the best of his abilities if it’s what his family wished for. Naturally, he was more than a little resentful of the rest of his family members for just expecting him to accept this weighted responsibility without so much of an objection. Not even one raised their hand on his behalf. He took over the motel anyway, all to escape the disappointed glances of his elders that were well past their prime.

Suga, throughout his childhood, had held onto a dream of becoming _somebody_. It didn’t particularly matter who, just somebody important. At first, it had been volleyball. He’d been a pretty good setter in his early years of middle school and high school, but because of another star, he was outshined and it became apparent he would never stand out in the sport. He wasn’t a prodigy, he didn’t have an insane amount of strength and while he could analyze, he still didn’t hold a candle compared to some others. He was . . . just Sugawara Koushi, someone who happened to like the sport. Next, after giving up the sport for college, it was anything he could get his hands on. He threw himself in languages, into mathematics, into anything that captivated his interests for an extended period. It didn’t seem like that much to ask for, to be spectacularly good at something so he could feel worthwhile.

Suga just wanted, just once, to stand out from the crowd, feel a little special in the big world, but, no, the universe decided to kick him right in the dick and leave him with the Sunset Motel.

Suga had settled in well enough. There was minimal staff, and given the low number of check-ins it gave he all the time he needed to get accustomed to the new faces. There was Ennoshita Chikara, raven hair and ebony eyes, tall, was rather timid around the new boss at first, but he gradually became more and more comfortable, showing how much of a hard worker he really was, even around the slowest times of the year. Ennoshita worked the kitchen as the head chef . . . because he was the only chef in the whole establishment, and he was more than enough. Next, there was Yamaguchi Tadashi, a good kid, He told Suga that he started working at the Sunset Motel only because he needed a paycheck to get him through college, and the motel was also a quiet spot to get his homework done in. However, when he graduated, he couldn’t bring himself to leave, in the end. He did little bits of everything. Since he turned twenty-one, though, he showed an affinity for mixing drinks, and thus he discovered his home behind the bar. Lastly, there was Tsukishima Kei, or the Saltiest French Fry of the Sunset Motel. Suga called him that because Tsukishima could be so . . . uninspiring at times. He didn’t put real effort into much of anything. He did his job and was done after that, refusing to do extra work. He cleaned the rooms so he could have time to himself and listen to his music while he changed the sheets and towels, as well as dropping off the laundry with Yamaguchi.

It was easy enough to build a lackadaisical routine around the staff and minuscule number of guests, which were usually just enough to keep the motel afloat but never low enough to dink the establishment.

Suga helped Tsukishima out from time-to-time with cleaning the rooms because there was nothing better to do, he did the receipts, kept a spreadsheet and all that shit, drank fruity drinks with Yamaguchi, experimented with new recipes with Ennoshita and wandered aimlessly sometimes because he grew restless and his legs would go numb from sitting in one spot for too long. He did wonder why their attendance wasn’t higher than it should be. The motel was right next to a fantastic lake with a sandy shore, perfect for a short family vacation, a honey or a fishing trip. Their rooms were tidy and quaint in a cute way, top of the line for their budget, and the lounge was luxurious. And the motel itself wasn’t too far out of the way of the main road.

However, most of their gusts were return customers, drivers who had lost their way, the odd couple that was “out to find themselves to rekindle the extinguished spark of their romance,” or the single, shady individual that everyone kept their distance from. It seemed that somebody was always traveling and managed to find their way to the serene and clean Sunset Motel.

Though, Suga did enjoy the quiet. It gave him time to think, and even better, it gave Suga the opportunity to discover something he was pretty damn good at, something about himself that he was gradually growing more and more proud of: writing.

It started out as little scribbles of dialogue on the corner of his napkins while he talked college nonsense with Yamaguchi, then it turned into drawn out elaboration across the inside of his arm as he listened to Tsukishima’s music, and then papers and papers of smeared ink in a rainbow of colors in the lounge, and he finally worked his way up to the laptop in his office. _They weren’t too special,_ he told himself _, just short stories until I write something truly important._

Life at the Sunset Motel was mundane, a rinse and repeat kind of life, sometimes too quiet for its own good. Tsukishima joked that one day they would all go as crazy as Jack Torrence from the _Shining_. Suga would laugh, Ennoshita would hang his head, agreeing, and Yamaguchi would ask if Tsukishima could stay the night because even the mere mention of the movie gave him chills. Nothing truly extraordinary happened at the Sunset Motel. All of them were sleepwalking through a pleasant dream, wondering when something amazing was going happen.

Everything, everyday, was always the same, nothing amazing happened.

That is . . . until the first of _them_ arrived. Winter had come early this year, and with it had sudden a sudden storm of torrential rain, with thunder drumming away and lighting shrieking in the distance.

When Suga first saw the guy, as he was typing away at his computer during a slow day while he manned the front desk, his first thought was that this stranger was . . . just like Suga. There was nothing particularly outstanding about him. And just like Suga, if you stood him next to a remarkable individual, he would be all but swallowed into the shadow of that person. He seemed friend enough, but totally out of his element, placing about like someone would pop out of nowhere and fight him.

He approached Suga, taking his jacket off, heaving a sigh of relief at the warmth of the motel that welcomed him. He slung his hoodie over one should rand shrugged his duffle bag a little higher onto the other. He was a bit taller than Suga, with dark, spikes of hair and his eyes were an earthy-green, dressed in comfortably baggy jeans, a navy blue shirt that hugged the muscle of his upper body and read _THE GOOD, THE BAD AND THE UGLY_ , a denim jacket and heavy shoes. While he was as normal look as the next guy, he did walk with an air of confidence, a _do not fuck with me unless you the ass-whooping of a lifetime_ sort of conviction.

“Welcome to the Sunset Motel,” SUga greeted, flashing him a big smile. “Are you looking to book a room for one night or more?”

“Uh, two?” The stranger offered a polite nod of his head to Suga before asking, “Has an Oikawa Tooru checked in today?” He looked down to see the time on his phone before pocketing it and returning his attention to the owner once again.

Suga blinked and shook his head, glancing down at the list of people currently checked into the motel, which would continue to be a blank set of paper until this guy signed in. The abrupt winter had really caused their number of check ins to dwindle. “No, no one of that name is checked in. Sorry. Are you expecting him?”

“Figures he would be late _this_ time,” the guy grumbled disappointedly, shoving his hands into his pockets and guiding his teeth together in a manner that conveyed that he was very much pissed off that the current circumstances. He closed his eyes sand huffed, “Could I get a room, then? And when Oikawa does get here, tell him that if he was going to have the balls to call me up out of nowhere, then the least he could do is be on time for once in his life.”

“I’ll just tell him you arrived earlier when he shows up,” Suga replied, waving off the rest of the statement like it wasn’t nearly as important, probably because it sounded petty. He really didn’t want to have to be in the middle of a fight between two people in his motel. “Room under what name?”

“Iwaizumi Hajime, the respected ass-kicker of Oikawa Tooru, when I can find him.” He scooted his credit card over to the computer, not entirely impatiently but for Suga to get the idea that he wanted him to hurry up. “This place does have a bar, right? He promised me there’d be a bar.”

“You’ll have the fourth room on the first floor,” Suga smiled, handing Iwaizumi the plastic card key. “And to answer your question, yes, we have a very nice bar, sir. Yamaguchi, our bartender, will make sure you get any drink that suits your fancy.”

“Thank you.” Curt. Iwaizumi started on his way towards the hallway to find his room, heavy steps resonating against the wooden flooring under his feet, sounding somehow defiant and certain as he walked.

Suga called out, “And will Oikawa Tooru be joining you in your room? I need to know so I can give him key when he gets here.”

“No!” Iwaizumi whirled around, his face a hilarious shade of carmine. _Liar_ , Suga thought. “He is not sharing a room with me. If I’m stuck with him, I won’t be getting any sleep tonight or tomorrow.” Suga tried to stifle a snort of laughter but it slipped out before he could stop himself and that only seemed to rile up and embarrass Iwaizumi even more. “Not for that reason! Never . . . that reason! He wouldn’t, I wouldn’t!—Just—Why do people always assume that we’re sleeping together? I mean why can’t they understand that he—we only see each other as friends . . . ?” He continued mumbling to himself, head hung low, and Suga listened in until Iwaizumi slammed the door to his room closed in a fit of chagrin.

“Funny guy,” Suga chuckled to himself. Oh well. Things might finally get interesting for once, if this Oikawa Tooru character ever arrived. The Sunset Motel was due for some liveliness within its walls.

Suga watched the rain fall just on the other side of the set of glass doors. It was coming down pretty heavily now. He felt sorry for anyone that was driving in this weather. The sky was darling outside now, creeping grey clouds, thunder rumbled in the distance like drums overhead. Suga just hoped that they wouldn’t lose internet because of the storm, otherwise it would get very boring around here very quickly if he hit a block in his writing.

“He sounds like he looks intimidating,” Yamaguchi practically squeaked, cleaning a crystal clear glass with a white towel. Suga had migrated to the bar and lounge area of the motel and was currently swiveling in a barstool to his heart’s content. He had just finished telling the bartender and chef about their new guest. Yamaguchi shifted his feet nervously, pursing his lips. “Did he say why he’s here? Vacation?”

“To meet some guy called Oikawa Tooru,” Suga replied, shrugging his shoulders indifferently, rolling them back to get some relief from the knots that had been building up in his upper back due to bad posture. He sighed when he heard he satisfying cracks of muscles relaxing as the tension was eased away. “It’s not our business, anyhow. I’d be careful around him, though. He seems to be very prone to losing his temper. Probably a bourbon or a whiskey type of guy. He’ll be down once gets over the embarrassment.”

“Who’s embarrassed?” Tsukishima asked, sliding into the barstool next to Suga. He was probably supposed to be finishing stowing the sheets away for Yamaguchi and Suga to put in the washer later, but hey it was a slow day so Suga figured he could cut the blond some slack.

“I may or may not have assumed that one of our guests—that he and this Oikawa Tooru were sleeping together. He got a blush-y at the implication,” Suga grinned, swirling his cranberry vodka with his finer. “So, either he’s your typical straight man embarrassed at the idea of sleeping with another dude or he’s actually gay and wants to sleep with this Oikawa Tooru, but is in the worst state of denial of basic desires that I’ve ever seen.”

_**DING!** _

They all didn’t exactly perk up, more like cautiously raise dither eyes towards the front desk at the sound of the bell.

_**DING DING DING DING!** _

“Knock it off, Kuro,” a small voice floated in, subdued and distracted.

“Aw, it’s fine, Kenma. I just want a hot bath. It’s fucking freezing out there,” a louder voice replied, like eww as announcing something of the utmost importance.

Suga slid off his seat and trotted over to the front desk once again to find two new faces there. He tread carefully, a sudden urge to crawl under the front desk and hide punching him right in the gut. He felt like he was being torn down and analyzed, every movement, every twitch of his fingers, every breath, every blink. He felt like he was giving himself away just by standing front of them.

One was taller with an unruly bedhead of raven hair that stuck up and out in odd places, and hazel eyes that disarmed Suga the minute they made eye-contact through the glasses the stranger wore at the edge of his nose. He was dressed in red jeans that had the silhouette of a tiger running down the side of his left leg, a black shirt that read _PANTHER_ , a black double breasted coat and converse shoes. He did remind Suga of a predatory cat, smelting about his curling grin, how it exposed his teeth, the sharp piercings that lined his right ear, the way his fingers drummed against the hardwood surface of the desk. He looked like he was watching, wait for his prey to lower their guard and then strike for the kill.

The other was smaller, of an average height and unsteady posture like he might tip over at any one moment, more because he was drawing himself in on himself like he could avoid attention by willing himself invisible. He had dyed blond hair with black roots at the top, piercing, golden eyes that reminded Suga of a car about to push something off the edge of a table. He was dressed in anything and everything baggy, probably to keep attention off him again. If he looked like a pile of clothes, then everyone would ignore him. Was that the logic? Baggy sweatpants, an oversized black with a red dragon and white dragon circling each other, and a red hoodie that looks like it had years of wear and tear out of it and it even looked like it would more fit the guy next to him better, and finally a pair of dying, greying white tennis shoes.

“Welcome to the Sunset Motel!” Suga greeted, smiling with as much friendliness as he could muster through his confusion One customer and then two right after him? Coincidence? Could be, but Suga liked to think that maybe life was finally throwing him something interesting. “Are you two look for rooms?”

“One room, please,” the taller guy replied. He opened up his wallet and flashed his ID, Kuroo Tetsurou, and then slid his credit card forward. “We’ll be up here for about two days or so.”

“Well, thank you for choosing us. You’ll be in room five on the first floor,” Suga informed, handing over card keys to the two of them. “We hope you’ll enjoy your stay. Please call the front desk if you need anything.”

“It’s a nice place you’re running here.” Suga’s eyes widened. Kuroo looked around, admiring the decor, smiling and rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. Meanwhile, his little friend decided to grab his own card key and scurry off towards he room after giving Suga a respectful nod of the head. But Suga wasn’t paying attention. This Kuroo was looking for Oikawa Tooru too? Or another Oikawa and this was just a coincidence?

“By the way, has a guy called Oikawa Tooru checked in today?” Kuroo asked, leaning on the counter, a steady, calculating glint in his eyes. It was only now that Suga noticed the surplus of suitcases at Kuroo’s feet. Some were heavy and armored while others were more casual and looked like your typical vacation suitcases. Strange.

“No, sorry,” Suga shook his head, “but you’re not the first person to ask that. An Iwaizumi Hajime is staying in the fourth room on the first floor, just across from you. He was also asking an Oikawa Tooru.”

“Iwaizumi’s here already?” Kuroo let out a loud and horribly ridiculous bout of laughter, slapping the counter to a nonsensical rhythm out of excitement. “I mean, I shouldn’t be surprised, really. I knew the bastard was itching to see Oikawa again, they’re practically each other’s drug, but I still figured that maybe Akaashi and Bokuto would be the first to get here. Akaashi is so much more punctual than the rest of us.”

“So, are you all getting together for, like, a birthday or something?” Suga asked, friendly and professional enough to mask his incessant curiosity and suspicion. “College buddies reunion? Should I have my chef make you a cake or . . . ?”

“Ooh!” Kuroo whistled appreciatively. He drummed his fingers against the wood once again, a Cheshire grin of delight spreading across his face. “An apple pie would be amazing, if you could. Kenma loves apples in any form.” Suga noted that response and the fond gaze in Kuroo’s eyes as he talked about Kenma, but neglected to bring up how Kuroo had easily danced away from answer the more important question at hand.

“Kenma?” Suga asked, feeling a tad stupid for asking. “Your little pal from a few seconds ago?”

Kuroo nodded his head towards the hallway. “That’s him, my boyfriend. He can be a bit shy but you can lure him into friendship with apples, that’s what my best bro Bokuto did.” And with that sudden name drop that meant absolutely nothing to Suga, the mysterious Kuroo Tetsurou picked up his luggage and stalked off to his room, whistling _Twisted Nerve_ like it was second nature to him, completely carefree.

Suga watched him leave before picking up the desk phone and calling the kitchen to let Ennoshita know that he needed to bake an apple pie for their guests. He also called Iwaizumi Hajime’s room to notify him that Kuroo Tetsurou and a Kenma had checked in and were staying in the room across from his. Iwaizumi offered a gruff grunt of a thank you before brusquely hanging up.

Suga stared at the phone with a raised eyebrow and rolled this eyes. Just his luck that his guests were going to be trouble this time around.

And then it was quiet at the Sunset Motel again for the next two hours, but it was different this time. There was a layer of apprehension in the air, the tension on the rope being pulled tighter and tighter, and they could only wonder when it would snap. Suga augured it would be when the one of the doors opened and a conversation began . . . But Oikawa Tooru had still yet to show his face. He could be catalyst. In any case, it was starting to take a toll on the whole place. Every step Suga took was too loud, too conspicuous like he was treading on sacred ground, hoping to trespass without getting caught. Yamaguchi was pacing again, looking like a balloon filled with too much air but not enough to pop, but Tsukishima was as casual as ever.

“If they aren’t causing a problem then it’d not worth worry about yet,” was his reasoning, and it was relatively sound. He went back to playing the piano in the lunge with deft fingers, rousing melodies filling the air.

Ennoshita finally emerged with a freshly baked apple pie, the pastry golden and crispy.

The restlessness, doubled the usual amount, had set in. The burning question of _What the ever loving fuck is going on here?_ was beating their skulls unendingly.

Ennoshita brought the pie out to Suga, the smell of cinnamon and cartelized apples filling the air and bringing with it, a small moment of clarity. They were all probably overreacting, like Tsukishima said. These were were normal, and Suga and the rest were just warping who they were in order to run from the boredom of the Sunset Motel. The guests were just waiting to hook up with an old buddy, and they would probably hang out and drink in the lounge and that would be the end of it.

Suga smiled and thanked Ennoshita, then called Kuroo’s room to let him and kenma that their pie was ready and waiting for them at the front desk.

Kuroo and Kenma emerged from their room, and in that same moment, so did Iwaizumi Hajime. The three of them, after a brief, silent stand off between Iwaizumi and Kuroo, looking each other up and down, assessing, walked together. They still glanced at each other with eyes sharp enough to cut through diamonds. Kenma, however, was busying himself by playing a game of mahjong on his phone, a backpack slung over his shoulder, but, in his own way, he was sizing up Iwaizumi Hajime.

Kuroo thanked Suga for the pie, giving him a wink and click of his tongue, and then the three of them made their way to the lunge. Suga, his curiosity no longer suppressible, followed them, deciding to hide behind the bar with Yamaguchi and Ennoshita so he could observe the interaction from a safe distance.

The lounge looked like a modernized speakeasy. Sexy, low lighting that made the whole area look like it was candlelit, booths and tables scattered across a glossy, black, wooden floor. There was a jukebox off to the far side of the room, lit up and ready to play a tune or two. There was a stage up at the front of the room, a medium sized platform with a shined, black, grand piano rest on top as well as stands for guitars and saxophones. Off to the side was a pair of pool tables, cause Suga heard that that’s what tipsy people like to play. Where Suga, Yamaguchi and Ennoshita were crowded was behind the bar, tall shelves with glistening, glass bottles reflecting the bright lights shining down on them behind a long, wooden counter.

Kuroo, Kenma and Iwaizumi settled down into a half circle booth with blue velvet lining right in the center of the room. Kenma pulled out three laptops from his backpack, effectively taking up a whole side of the booth, leaving Iwaizumi and Kuroo to share the other half. At the close proximity, Iwaizumi offered a glare and scrunched nose to Kuroo who responded with a sly smirk pair with a chambering wink, leaning in relatively close to the other, who leaned as far back as he could.

“How’ve you been, Iwaizumi? I haven’t seen you since my deal in Amsterdam,” Kuroo chuckled lowly, breaking the ice, still right in Iwaizumi’s face. He suddenly moved back and waved over to Yamaguchi and asked, “Could I have have a whiskey for my friend here, and two apple ciders?”

Yamaguchi squeaked, scurrying off like a frightened bird to begin pouring their drinks as Kuroo whipped out a butterfly knife and started smoothly cutting through the apple pie, whistling appreciatively, “Like fucking butter, nice. Thank you, chef-chan!” He waved pleasantly at Ennoshita who offered a nervous wave back.

Kuroo slid a piece on a napkin over to Kenma, who started typing on each of the computers like a madman, the keys clacking loudly in the empty space of the lounge. His golden eyes softened when he saw the treat and licked his lips. He gingerly picked it up and started nibbling on it with quick, small bites like a mouse eating a piece of cheese.

“I’ve been all right,” Iwaizumi replied. He gave Yamaguchi a quiet thank you once he received his drink and then continued, “I stayed in America for a spell, help out the Italian Dom on a couple jobs here and there, mostly because they paid well. He’s got an underboss now, you know? They call him Franky Boy. I thought that sounded stupid as shit! Who's afraid of some fucker named Franky Boy. Like, _"Oh yeah, beware of Franky Boy or he’ll sing you a jaunty tune and give you a piece of saltwater taffy."_ ” Kuroo sputtered, nearly spewing out the swig of apple cider he’d just taken. “Anyway, I came back to Japan a year ago, ended up bumping into Bo and Akaashi while on a job for the Sumiyoshi-kai in Tokyo. I’ve been working as I’m hired, and then I got a call from Oikawa three days ago and now I’m here. That’s my story of the past three years. What about you two? You and Kenma been keeping out of trouble?”

The Sumiyoshi-kai? Suga took deep breath, attempting to settle how unsteady he was feeling at the mention of that name. Yaguchi slid Suga a nervous glance once he heard the name too. The Sumiyoshi-kai was the second largest yakuza family in Japan. They had a long, bloody history with the Yamaguchi-gumi (which Yamaguchi had sworn up and down that he wasn’t a part of) and had more than proved that they were worthy of being feared.

“Naturally,” Kuroo grinned, with a drawl in his voice that implied that he was totally lying. “We’ve been lying low, really, only working jobs when we need and at a high price.”

“Should we call the police?” Yamaguchi whispered, his voice cracking. “I think we have actual murderers sitting _right there_!”

“If they’re as dangerous as we think they are, they’ll kill us if they even think we’ve called the cops,” Suga whispered, equally petrified. His fingers were shaking, of course out of worry, but also out of awe. There was finally something interesting within his reach, something really cool but also insanely terrifying happening right in front of them. And he was now a character in their story. Sure, just the cute owner of the Sunset Motel, but that was still somebody! “We’ll just ride this out until leave, then we can call the police.”

“And by lying low, you mean gambling?” Iwaizumi asked, leaning back in the booth and crossing his arms over his chest.

“You can’t pass up a good opportunity to fuck over some rich idiots on vacation when you have someone as smart as my Kenma by your side,” Kuroo defended with a lopsided smile. “You know fully well that his pokier face is unbelievable. Cost you a few millions in the past, right? It’s like he can read your fucking mind. Needless to say, we’ve effectively been banned from Las Vegas, Monte Carlo and Macau. They’ll use any excuse they can lay their hands on to accuse my kenma of cheating, counting cards, loaded dice, bribery, anything.”

“So, that’s what Kenma’s been doing. What have you been doing?”

Kuroo slid a glance over to where Suga, Yamaguchi and Ennoshita were watching, his hazel eyes holding sparks of mischief. _One word and we can and will blow this place to kingdom come, your corpses too._ He bared his teeth paired with a laugh, and they were quick to look away.

“Chemistry,” he replied finally. “Lots and lots of experiments.”

 _Oh my god. He makes drugs. He’s a drug dealer_ , Suga mentally whimpered. _Not good. I do not need a regular Walter White in my motel. I just hope he didn’t bring any with him._

“Had any experiments gone bad?” Iwaizumi asked conversationally.

Kuroo placed a hand on his heart, feigning hurt, and pouted. “You wound my pride as a master scientist, iwaizumi. I make top of the line drugs, not that shit that you snort once and then flop over dead than Uma Thurman in _Pulp Fiction_.”

“Except when you purposefully give your clients an overdose,” a voice voice quipped from he back, a tone that immediately captured everyone’s attention. A soft voice that commanded responsibility. Someone new had come into the Sunset Motel’s lounge, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he strolled with purpose through the maze of tables and booths. “Only then do they flop like Uma Thurman in _Pulp Fiction_ , don’t they, Pain-In-The-Ass-Kuroo-San?”

“Akaashi Keiji!” Kuroo shouted, holding his arms out for a hug, ignoring the fact that he’d just been insulted. “So good to see your model-model-why face again, you beautiful son of a bitch!”

“Please, don’t insult my mother, Kuroo-san, not when you’re such a pristine example of a bitch yourself.”

“Well, someone’s in a bad mood,” Iwaizumi said, raising an eyebrow and chuckling at Kuroo’s expense. “Nice to see you again, Akaashi. Hope you’ve been well.”

Akaashi nodded respectfully. “You as well, Iwaizumi-san.”

Okay, so . . . _still_ not Oikawa Tooru. Stranger still was when Akaashi Keiji stepped into the light and Suga felt his heart skip a beat. How the fuck does someone become that gorgeous, _naturally_? He was tall, lean, with sharp cheek bones highlighting his more delicate features like his lips and eyes. His hair was inky, and his eyes were as hard as steel, a calming blueish-green hue. He was dressed a bit more understated than Kuroo, in plain jeans, a simple black button down, a long, warm coat and hiking boots. As he strode forward, he held an air of control, like he was the one you could count on in a crisis.

His eyes found Suga and he paused for a second, his lips parting as if in awe, and suddenly Suga was very self-conscious of what he was wearing and what he looked like, in general.

 _Fuck, he’s really gorgeous . . ._ “I’m sorry,” Suga managed to choke out, interrupting them. All their eyes joined Akaashi to stare at him, curiously. “Did you want to check in, sir?”

Akaashi seemed to think for a second as he took the time to look at Suga, his eyes widening only a faction once he got a better look at the owner, like he was the one _impressed_ by Suga. “No, I don’t think I’ll be staying too long. I plan to get back on the road,” he replied. He turned back to Kuroo and Iwaizumi, regretfully. “I just dropped by to tell Oikawa-san that I wouldn’t be helping him in whatever scheme he’s got planned for us this time.”

“Well, Shittykawa’s not here yet,” Iwaizumi informed him tiredly, taking a swig of whiskey and huffing with frustration. “I’ve been waiting a couple hours for him to show up now, and he’s yet to show his face.”

“Did you think to call him? You are the one with his personal cell.” Akaashi asked, knitting his brows together and staring down Iwaizumi, who shifted underneath the gaze. “Tell him to get his pretty ass in gear?”

* * * * * *

_A Couple Hours Earlier . . ._

He strolled towards the gas station with a skip in his step, the little kid trailing behind him like a frightened puppy, to both of them seeking temporary shelter from the torrential rainstorm. A shriek of panic interrupted his song and made him look up from wiping away the dried blood on his hone screen, wringing is nose in a disappointed disgust.

As he narrowed his eyes, he could see that just inside the konbini were men waving around semi-automatic handguns like they were glass, screaming people to get down or they’ll shoot. Idiots. He sighed and pushed the kid off to the side, giving him a look that told him to tay put, before walking in with all the confidence in the world, humming to the song playing in his ears.

Once inside, he had to blink a few times to let his eyes adjust to the bright, fluorescent shine from above. At least it was warming in here than it was outside, which meant he couldn’t leave the kid out there for long. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, feeling the small blades he kept there for safe keeping and continued to walk forward as fi there was nothing odd going on. Through his headphones, he could hear mutters of confusion and the typical elevator music that’s usually played in konbinis. His eyes flickered over to the people, the robbers and their hostages, before finally settling on the snack selves.

His eyes lit up and he merrily skipped over.

“Hey!”

“Hey, you! Hands in the air! Now!”

He ignored them, doing a little spin on his heels, and he moved towards the section of milk bread. Starved out of his mind, though. Little apprehensive, he licked his lips and grabbed four packets like his life depended on it. If he couldn’t eat them, then the kid could eat them. He looked up to see a woman pressed against the refrigerated shelves of water bottles and gatorade, a gun pressed to her head as she cried and cried, and decided that he wasn’t too thirsty. The cashier was shaking like a rickety seesaw, his hands in the air, as he approached. He wanted to help them out, really, he did. He wasn’t cold hearted, but he had his own problems right now, chasing after him like bats out of Hell itself. He didn’t have time to be the Good Samaritan in this situation.

“I said! Hands in the air!”

“What? You fucking punk! You have a death wish or something! He said: Hands in the air! Now!”

He continued to the cash register, sliding the men around him a cheery smile behind which held murderous intentions. It was enough to silence them, they weren’t so keen on crossing him, it seemed. He laid the milk bread on the counter and asked the cashier politely, “How much for these? I’m kind of in a hurry.”

Instead of an answer, he felt the cold press of steel against his temple, heard the click of safety slide, and he rolled his eyes, heaving out a vexed sigh.

“You must really be stupid to think you can waltz inhere and think you’re hot stuff. Kids like you have no respect for your seniors, and you all wonder why the economy’s going to shit,” the robber grumbled, his breath hot and smelling repulsively of garlic. Oh goodie, a lecturer. “I used to be just like you, kid, on top of the goddamn world—”

“I’m insulted. How dare you equalize yourself to me, you fat, stinking bastard. For one thing, I way better looking than you, and another thing—” his hand, the blade sticking out from his fingertips, whispered across the man’s throat for a split second before a fountain of blood erupted from the slit “—I’m not just on top of the world. I’m Oikawa Fucking Tooru, I won this world.”

And that’s when the gunfight started, but it ended even faster.

* * * * * *

“You’re all thinking about this way too hard,” Kenma mumbled, looking up from his computers and giving Akaashi a nod in greeting. He took another bite of his apple pie waiting to finish chewing or swallowing before continuing, “He’s probably just late because he wants to make a theatrical entrance.” Suga thought Kenma’s voice suited him, it was small, soft, almost like hewas constantly lost in thought, but it held an intelligent edge to it, like he always knew exactly wha t he was talking abut. “You all know how Tooru is.”

Iwaizumi shifted uncomfortably in the booth, looking down at his glass of whiskey. Kuroo grinned something wide and mocking as his eyes pinned Iwaizumi in place. “Someone’s still got it bad for our prettiest brunet?”

“Shut up,” Iwaizumi grumbled.

“It still upset you that I call Tooru by his first name, doesn’t it?” Kenma asked, cocking his head to the side. He leaned across the table and snagged himself another piece of pie from Kuroo. Suga was in awe of how quickly he was to cut down Iwaizumi’s passive aggressive front, and get the point of things, Iwaizumi’s feelings for this Oikawa Tooru. “I understand, though. You’ve known him longer than any of us, are stupidly in love with him, have slept with him and yet you still can’t call him Tooru. Why is that?”

Akaashi put a hand on Kenma’s shoulder, direction his attention off the other. “Iwaizumi deserves the opportunity to take those steps at his own pace. You were given that liberty too, right?”

Kenma turned and narrowed his eyes at Kuroo, who was sitting right across from him. At first, Suga thought it looked like a vicious accusal, but it was actually more reluctantly playful the longer he looked. “This loser literally picked me up princess-style and said we were going on a date to the movies and then to GameStop. I didn’t get a chance to set the pace, Keiji.”

“You weren’t complaining when I kissed you later that night,” Kuroo sang teasingly, giving him a knowing wink.

“Yeah, ‘cause you were _kissing_ me, Kuro. My mouth was a tad occupied.”

“You liked it.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

. . .

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did _not_.”

Suga could feel and see the tension in the group ease away as Iwaizumi laughed and Akaashi even chuckled. Kuroo leaned forward, grasped the collar of Kenma’s sweatshirt and yanked him into a quick kiss that made Kenma’s eyes widen to the size of marbles. Just as he was about to press in for more, Kuroo pulled away, mouthing, “Did too.”

Suga wanted that, really wanted that. He wanted that sense of trust, to be able to banter and tease someone with kisses. He wanted someone to know exactly what he wanted, when hew anted it, and he wanted to do that same thing for someone he loved.

Akaashi caught him staring and he had to look away again to avoid whatever wrath might be in store for him, but he caught the slightest of smiles from the other before he store his eyes away. He caught himself smiling and tried school his features, but he was caught.

“You think that Akaashi is cute,” Ennoshita gasped, as quietly as he could. He punched Suga’s shoulder and glared desperately at him. “Suga! He’s probably a criminal too!”

“Yeah, criminally attractive,” Suga shot back, punching his friend right back in the shoulder. He offered a weak glare before slumping his shoulders in defeat and whined, “I’m sorry, I can’t help it. I’ve had no action since college, Ennoshita. I’m lonely and he looked at me. Multiple times!”

“You know nothing about him, though, Suga,” Yamaguchi pointed out tentatively, still cleaning that same glass as before out of anxiety. “He could be a murderer, a drug dealer, human trafficker. Are you really lonely enough to flirt with someone like him?”

“Is he hot?”

“I mean, even I can see that, yeah—”

“Then, yes.” The look of horror on Yamaguchi’s face was so priceless, Suga couldn’t resist let out a small bout of laughter at his expense. This was probably the wrong time to be cracking jokes about this sort of thing. On the group chat during a slow day? Sure. On literally any day other than today? Absolutely. When they were faced with a group of potential murderers that were sitting right in front of them and could kill them whenever they wanted to? No, not really.

He raise his hands in surrender. “I promise you, Yamaguchi, I’m just kidding. I’m not going to flirt with a murderer.”

“So, why aren’t you going to help Oikawa?” Iwaizumi asked Akaashi. The table silenced, the tension falling over them once again. Apparently, when it concerned Oikawa, you don’t cross Iwaizumi Hajime. “Not mad, ‘cause I don’t even know if I’ll help him either. Just curious is all.”

“I went straight after we all broke up,” Akaashi admitted. “Not sexually, still gay, of course.”

“Of course,” they all echoed.

“I’ve been trying to avoid jobs as much as I can, you know? As you all can probably guess, I still help out Bokuto-san from time to time, but only if he calls me. Other than that, I’m just trying to get my degree.”

“That’s funny, Akaashi. Cute, even. You can never quit,” Kuroo sneered, almost mocking, but mostly like he was putting up a wall to shield him from the news. “It’s not like drugs or alcohol or cigarettes, Akaashi. You can’t just decide to quit, join a cute therapy session with people who “understand” you. No. It follows you, it’s your shadow. It’s Kenma and his computer, it’s Iwaizumi with his shotgun, it’s Oikawa and his guitar and it’s me with my lab. You can’t quit what we are, because it’s more than a couple missteps, it’s a chosen way of life, Akaashi.”

Akaashi balled his fists, fixing Kuroo with an unmoving glare, daggers for eyes. “Thank you for that enlightening addition, Kuroo-san. I’ll be sure to forget what you just said as soon as possible. You just want me to stay because I was the only one willing to look at after Bokuto-san because you wanted to run off with Kozume-san. And I don’t blame you, but I’m done.” His eyes glanced up towards Suga again, like he was telling him this instead of Kuroo. “But I did quit. _I did_.“

“You brought your katana, though, and you showed up to begin with,” Kuroo pointed out, smirking victoriously. Akaashi eyed him before touching something behind his head, probably where eat handle of his sword rested, before letting his eyes fall downward self-consciously. “You say now that you weren’t going to help Oikawa, but you would’ve given in anyway, because you owe Oikawa your life as much as the rest of us do. You don’t want to him to really be as lonely as he convinces himself he is.”

Everyone was silent, and Iwaizumi dug his nails into his own forearm out of guilt. Kuroo slapped on the back, reassuringly.

“So . . .” Iwaizumi started, fishing up his whiskey and waving Yamaguchi over for a refill. “Now that we’re all here. What do you think the job is about? Think we’re actually going to go out and kill someone like last time? We could have some fun and make a bet about it before he gets here.”

“Wait, you really don’t know what the job is?” Kuroo asked, narrowing his eyes. “Now, that’s fucking weird.”

“He just said to show up here and then hung up on me,” Iwaizumi muttered ruefully. “I’m just as clueless as you lot.”

Suga’s blood ran cold from the uncertainty, and it felt like the group seated in front of him would suddenly turn their heads around to sneer at him, _Exorcist_ style, and then strike to kill him. What if the reason they were here was to kill someone who was already at the motel? Was it Suga? Yamaguchi? Ennoshita? Oh gods what had Tsukishima said to piss of the mysterious Oikawa Tooru? Maybe he was overreacting again, though, maybe this was just where they were going to meet up before they left to go and enact their crime. He felt so very small in front of these giants, including Kenma. They were . . . _somebody_. They had that indignity, something that people knew them for and it followed them like a dark cloud, but it made them important in someway.

Suga didn’t exactly want to be them, per se, but he wanted to be like them, recognizable and with an extensive, exciting history.

“Thanks the fucking gods you guys are here!” another new voice almost screamed, breaking Suga out of his thoughts and forcing everyone’s attention on him. The new arrival stood in the entrance to the lounge, panting like he had just run a marathon, drenched in blood, dried and fresh. He was holding the hand of a little kid, who was staring at them all with wide, curious eyes. “You guys would not believe the week I’ve had!”


	2. CLINT EASTWOOD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I ain’t happy, I’m feeling glad  
> I got sunshine in a bag  
> I’m useless, but not for long  
> The future is coming on  
> —Clint Eastwood by Gorillaz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read the first chapter! I hope you like this chapter because this is when things finally start happening!

Oikawa Tooru.

How could Iwaizumi Hajime even begin to describe his best friend and longtime crush?

Oikawa Tooru was a shooting star, that really did seem to be the best way to describe, Iwaizumi guessed. He briefly burst into peoples’ lives full of color and music, pockets filled to the brim with ambitions and dreams, and his eyes were often lost in the ocean of stars in the dark night sky. He constantly worried Iwaizumi, as he was always covered in bandages, a plethora of sizes and colors. Then he always had his guitar slung across his back, so he was ready to play a song at the drop of a hat, to strum a gentle set of cords to help him think. He often played absentmindedly, to fill the quiet and his voice carried through the air, gentle and pure, and punched Iwaizumi right in the gut, leaving him breathless and dizzy.

Oikawa’s hair was softer than any form of silk and he had that stupidly adorable cowlick that gave him almost an air of innocence if you looked at hi right. His eyes were the loveliest doe brown, side and bright with wonder as he absorbed the world around him. No matter how bloody or gory his surroundings got, Oikawa always looked to his future like an avid reader excited for the next page in an adventure book, with anticipation to find out just what would happen next. He was open and capable, welcoming challenges head on and overcoming them with a smile.

Until three years ago, Iwaizumi and Oikawa had been stuck to one another like they were superglued together, completely inseparable. Their bodies ached when they were apart and hummed with a song when they were together. If there was a picturesque definition for soulmates, Iwaizumi liked to think they were it, but part of him was too afraid to voice how he felt. He couldn’t stand to lose Oikawa because he’s succumbed to something like love, something they were taught would only weaken them in the long run.

Oikawa was just out of each these days, a few steps ahead of him, aiming for the top while Iwaizumi was trailing behind, reaching for him, just wanting nothing more than to stand beside him and have his back, protect him. He’d seen every side of Oikawa, seen the moments that molded him into who he was today, his strongest moments, his weakest, and had been there to stand beside him through it all. When Oikawa called, Iwaizumi was faster than the wind to get to him. Ever since they were teenagers, born into small yakuza owned families and absorbed into the work, they had killed together, smoked all kinds of drugs together, counted hundred dollar bills together, gotten sloppy drunk together and just been . . . quiet together, soaking in the fact that they were there, together in a short moment where it was just them.

He was a parched man in the desert without his best friend, and Oikawa was the same way without Iwaizumi. They were bound together. Call it fate, call it love, but they were pledged to each other, an undying loyalty forged through fights, through care and through years.

The last time Iwaizumi had seen Oikawa, they had been in a club in London, getting drunk off their asses after a successful job, dancing the night away in a sea of neon lights and pounding, electronic music. They had lost count of how many people had tried to interject and steal Oikawa for a dance, and maybe it was the alcohol that had given him the courage, but Iwaizumi had only pulled Oikawa closer and closer still until their bodies whispered again one another as they continued to grind to the electronic beat, their breaths mingling and eyes glazed over in pure bliss. Then they’d suddenly been standing still, two islands in a raging sea of dancing bodies, the music fading into the background, and then Iwaizumi pulled Oikawa’s face down to his to seal their lips together.

That was all it took, a quick descent into unyielding addiction, Chasing lips, exploring hands, hot gasps for air, tasting the sweat of each other’s skin, biting harshly into soft flesh, licking to soothe the tender love bites and finally Oikawa’s breathless whisper.

_“Iwa-chan, please.”_

Iwaizumi’s purse quickened every time he thought of the frantic, giggling messes were once they reached the hotel room came to mind, ripping off each other’s clothes as fast as they could manage and groaning unabashedly when he felt Oikawa’s warm, wet mouth on his hard cock. He memorized the sound of Oikawa’s moans, the soft whimpers as Iwaizumi stretched him open, watched how his back arched into his touches, his head thrown back in utter pleasure, saying Iwaizumi’s name over and over again like a mantra. He was pleading for more and more in that voice Iwaizumi knew he could never bring himself to say no to. He often, when he missed Oikawa, reminisced about how easily their bodies moved in tandem with every snap of his hips to thrust inside Oikawa, how their lips hardly left each other for long. It was the most intimate of dances. At that time, Iwaizumi hadn’t felt any regrets about baring himself to his emotions like that and letting them control him. He cared only about the breathless, sated moans of Oikawa, the knowledge that this was always supposed to happen because _they were meant to happen_.

That was the last time iwaizumi had seen Oikawa Tooru before he disappeared on a job the following morning, that was three years ago. Three long, empty, starving years, but here he was now . . . standing at the mouth of the lounge at the Sunset Motel, bathed in the sickly yellow of the dim lights overheard, completely drenched in blood from head to toe. The sun had long since dipped beyond the horizon, making it seem as though Oikawa had appeared like a ghost out from the surrounding woods.

Oikawa was panting like he was out of breath with a tired smile barely lighting up his cute face, his cheeks flushed from exertion. He was dressed in loose, light blue jeans, a baseball tee that read _ALL IN YOUR HEAD_ , heavy, black shoes and a denim jacket that looked to be two sizes too big for him. Bandaids, pink, purple and blue, were scattered across his fingers and one on his right cheek. Behind where his headphones hung around his neck was a big, white, hospital-like bandage that was slowly but surely peeling off, like it had been there for a few days now. His guitar, like always, was slung over his back and, like the rest of him, was covered in blood like he had just walked out of a brutal murder scene.

At the sight of of him, Iwaizumi stumbled to his feet, alarms ringing in his ears and his eyes growing wide with concern. With force, he shoved his way past Kuroo and ran. It was like he flew to him, his feet never touching the ground as he weaved past chairs and tables as quickly as he could manage.

“What the actual fuck, Oikawa?” he seethed when hew s finally standing in front of his best friend. He reached out and touched the blood smeared skin, feeling the dried clumps break off under his touch. He demanded, “What happened to you? Who did this?”

“Oh, relax, really. Only _some_ of this is my blood. The rest of this masterpiece of a paint job is someone else’s.” Oikawa wrinkled his nose in disgusting in a way that was just so Oikawa it made Iwaizumi’s heart thud loudly in his chest, as he reached down to wring out some of the fresher blood from his shirt. He huffed and gave up, shrugging, then finally lifted his eyes to lookout Iwaizumi and smiled. “It’s good to see you too, Iwa-chan,” he murmured fondly.

Oh, fuck me all to hell. Give me a chance, Oikawa. “You’re really okay, though?” Iwaizumi asked, biting the inside of his cheek. It was only then that he noticed the small child clinging to Oikawa’s pants leg. He pointed at the kid, blinking owlishly and asked, “What’s that?”

“A kid, Iwa-chan. Have you never seen one before?” Oikawa snarked with a smirked. “You’ve always been as short as one, always so pocket-sized.”

“Cut the crap, Shittykawa. Why the hell do have a kid?”

“Like I said: You would not believe the week I’ve had.” Oikawa gazed down at the kid and ruffled his brightly colored hair playfully. “Come on, Chibi-chan, let’s go sit down with my friends over here, okay?”

He motioned for Iwaizumi to follow, giving him a look that said I promise I’ll explain. He looked so tired, walking with something akin to a limp, blood dripping into a trail behind him. Iwaizumi didn’t waste any time in letting Oikawa lean on him, supporting his weight without so much as a second thought. The kid stared up at them both with concern as Oikawa was gracelessly dropped onto the booth, Kuroo having scooted over to make enough room, his joyous sarcasm melting into disquiet.

Exchanging glances, everyone at that table understand that this was a thousand times more serious than any of them had thought this was going to be.

“Oikawa-san, did you really steal a child?” Akaashi asked, concern breaking through his normally collected tone. He kneeled down to inspect the child, checking him over for any open wounds. “We’ve done bad thins before, yes, but kids are off the list for all of us, you know that. What’s your name, kid?”

“Hinata Shouyou!” he replied with a bounce.

Hinata was a small kid, he prosy wouldn’t be very tall when hewas older, but he did his best to stand proud amongst these adults surrounding him. He had big, brown eyes that watched them all with a mixture of awe and apprehension, and oddly hued ginger hair, almost brightly orange in color. He was dressed din black shorts and an orange tee that was stained with blood from who knows how long ago, some of it fading into the fabric. He didn’t seemed to be seriously injured, though, and was walking perfectly fine.

“Oh, ye of little faith. For your information, Aka-chan, I saved him from a horrible fate,” Oikawa replied, sticking his tongue out at Akaashi. He was lying flat on his back as Iwaizumi proceeded to check him over for wounds. As his fingers skimmed over chilling skin, he frozen as he heard Oikawa shiver, humming a pleased sound. He swallowed, pretending he didn’t notice and continued to press for bruises and searching for deep slashes or bullet holes. It was hard to tell if he really was seriously injured, though, given how much blood Oikawa was drenched in.

“I’m the hero in this grand tale.”

“And what’s the grand story this time, Oikaa-kun?” Kuroo asked, raising an eyebrow. Oikawa Tooru, covered in blood, kid in hand. It sounded like the beginning of a very bad joke that wouldn’t even get a chuckle. “I have to say, when you called us up, this is not what I thought we were going to be seeing.”

Oikawa smirked at Kuroo, finally taking his eyes off Iwaizumi. “I’m sorry I’m not more presentable, gentlemen, but as I’ve essentially said three times now: I’ve had a very trying week.”

Iwaizumi let Oikawa sit up when he saw that there was nothing imminently wrong with him. He reached out see the bandage on Oikawa’s neck, but his best friend slapped a hand over the wound and shook his head, whispering, “I’m fine. I promise.” Still Iwaizumi sat close to keep an eye on him. Oikawa looked like he was about to fall over, like he hadn’t slept in days. “I was hired to rescue Hinata Shouyou here—” he pointed at Hinata “—from a rich family out in the country that had kidnapped him.”

“They called me Sunshine!” Hinata pipped up excitedly, with a smile that nearly made all their hearts melt. “But then they hurt me. At lot. They cut me. See?” He pointed at his neck which was littered with scars and then his wrists which looked like they had been repeatedly slashed with a serrated knife.

They all sucked in a shocked breath, except Oikawa who hung head with regret. Kenma shrank back at the sight of scars, breathing heavily and pulling his down down further and further to cover himself up. Iwaizumi felt himself almost falling into the role of a protective father. Who the fuck would do this to a kid? Some kind of fucking cult? Iwaizumi, upon further examination, could read purpose in the cuts, the way the slashes avoided arteries, all to keep the kid alive. It wasn’t just to hurt Hinata, it wasn’t as barbaric as that, no, it seemed that they kept him and alive so they could gain something from him. Careful incisions, calculated and time between each one. It made him sick to think someone was so willing to do this to a child.

This Hinata was . . . He was just a kid, and Iwaizumi, and he assumed the others as well, didn’t even want to begin to think about what Hinata had gone through, what Oikawa saved him from.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you sooner, Chibi-chan,” Oikawa mumbled, dejected. Iwaizumi could see him beating himself up on the inside, even when Hinata gave the killer a big, grateful smile.

_If I had been stronger, if I had been fast, if I had been smarter, if I had just been . . . more, then maybe I could’ve saved him before he was hurt._

Iwaizumi smacked him over the back of his head. He said nothing when Oikawa squawked indignantly at him, but Iwaizumi gave him a stern look that said, _You have been and you always be enough._

Oikawa smiled but he really didn’t look like he believed Iwaizumi, wringing his wrist and taking a deep breath. He looked over towards the bar and smiled sunnily at the owner and his two employees that had been watching them since the beginning, “Suga-chan, hi! Long time, no see! Think you could get this kiddo some apple juice or something?” Meanwhile, Kenma slid forward a piece of apple pie for Oikawa and Hinata, giving them both slight nods before hiding himself in the bar corner of the booth again. It was a relatively grand gesture from Kenma.

Still, they all looked at Oikawa suspiciously as he continued to wave at the owner like he knew him.

Sugawara glanced about warily before nodding, dumbfounded. “How abut some orange juice?”

Hinata’s eyes lit up and he bounced off his chair to follow Sugawara into the kitchen, leaving his piece of apple pie behind, which Oikawa gleefully gobbled up without a second thought. He coughed harshly immediately afterwards, his eyes growing a little glassy as he stared down at the food. Akaashi stood up suddenly, awkwardly really, and began to follow Sugawara, giving his friends a look that said, _Just to be safe_. Which was a totally fucking lie. Iwaizumi, as well as the rest of them except for Oikawa who was smiling at Akaashi expectantly now, could see that Akaashi had the hots for the motel owner from the minute he walked into the lounge.

Just peeking out from the collar of his coat, Iwaizumi could see the handle of Akaashi’s katana, shined, black wood and daffodil yellow ribbons hanging off it.

Sugawara was utterly perplexed when he noticed that Akaashi would be joining them, but when Akaashi gave him the faintest of smiles, he seemed to relax and babble something awkwardly before they settled into a gentle conversation a little while after they disappeared into the kitchen with Hinata. It was quiet for a little bit, as they felt hopeful for Akaashi, like a group of parents watching their kid go out and make friends.

Oikawa turned back to them and gave them all a leveled glare. “Suga-chan is good friend of mine. All of you better treat him with respect and protect him if there’s trouble. You hear me?” In response, he received a solemn but befuddled nod of their heads. Iwaizumi tried to control the constricting feeling in his chest which he knew all too well was jealousy.

Oikawa chuckled and looked back at the kitchen, smiling softly. “I’m not too worried, though. It seems that Akaashi is getting pretty close to him already. Going exactly as planed.”

“So, Oikawa, all jokes and pretenses aside, no lies, why did you call us?” Iwaizumi asked, trying not to grit his teeth. _Why haven’t you called me in years? Don’t you trust me like you used to?_ It might seem selfish, but more than anything he didn’t Oikawa to tell him that he was going to be spending the job protecting Sugawara Koushi, who Iwaizumi was already feeling immense jealousy towards, especially after seeing how happy Oikawa had been to see him. “Did you get into some kind of trouble?”

“Oh, Iwa-chan. I’m always in trouble,” Oikawa’s voice was light, but they could all hear just how tired he was. He laugh loudly, hollow. He let his head fall onto Iwaizumi’s shoulder, heavy with weary. He hummed and buried his nose somewhere in crook of Iwaizumi’s neck, and seemingly taking that deep breath he’d needed in order to finally and fully relax.

_Deep breaths. Calm your pulse. Don’t let him know that he does this to you, that he can melt you with only a touch._

Close up, they could see that Oikawa was, in fact, unnaturally pale, almost like he was drained of life, like he hadn’t eaten or gotten a good night’s sleep in years. Iwaizumi tried to shove down the need to drag Oikawa to the closest bed, wrap in in a blanket, give him some fresh water and then force to get some sleep. He convinced himself, though, that his days of fretting over Oikawa were long over, when, in reality, they were only just beginning in this very long night ahead of them. They were bound by the red string of fate, and no matter what they tried, they couldn’t sever it with any gun or sword known to man.

“So, why did you call us here?” Kuroo echoed curiously, cocking his head to the side and his lips sliding into a grin, but it was more forced like he was trying to act as normal as he could for Oikawa’s sake. “Usually, it’s Iwaizumi that calls us up after you rope him into some ridiculous shenanigan, but you called us all this time. The rest of of us are your backup. You usually like you and Iwaizumi to be a two man army.“

Iwaizumi, at what Kuroo’s said, thought back to one of his conversations Oikawa before he disappeared.

_“You know I’m a selfish person, Iwa-chan. I want things back the way they were, when Makki and Mattsun left after getting hitched, when it was you and me, and on you and me. I miss that. I don’t want to share these adventures, these jobs, with anyone anymore.”_

_“But I’m the exception?”_

_“You’re always the exception, Iwa-chan. Don’t you know that by now?”_

_“We need need other people for backup if we’re going to keep taking on big jobs like this. It can’t just be you and me.”_

_“But don’t you want it to be?”_

“I thought I had gotten a good glimpse of the world by now. I thought I really understood it better than I did,” Oikawa smiled, subdued. Iwaizumi could feel it curve against his skin. “I thought I’d seen the limits, the furthest extent, but I was really _fucking_ wrong. There’s an infinity of possibilities that I never even considering happening just because they’re not supposed to happen.”

“Like what?” Kuroo asked, sling another piece of pie and handing it over to Kenma, who started taking bigger bites now that he’d taken the first tentative tastes. “Are we talking mayonnaise in chocolate cake batter levels of that shouldn’t happen? Because that is not supposed to happen. Chocolate is supposed to make you happy, but mayonnaise is nothing but sadness, really. Fuck mayonnaise.”

Everyone paused for a quick second to let Kuroo calm down about his hatred for mayonnaise before Oikawa started talking again.

“You guys have heard of the legend of the Infinity Hotel before, right?” Oikawa asked, with. self-Self-deprecating smile. “The hotel that always has a room available for the occasional wandering soul, when the sign says “No Vacancies”? Well, now I know it’s always got a room ready and waiting. They save room for _dessert_.” He spat out the word like it was poison, which seemed odd to all of them because Oikawa was known to love and adore sweets as a way of rewarding himself for completing a job.

Iwaizumi knew him to eat milk bread like it was going out of style.

However, the mention of the Infinity Hotel had them sitting up straight. It was a name they had all heard before, a story of a safe haven gangsters told their kids just before bedtime. Though, no one knew anyone that had ever stayed at the Infinity Hotel, and thus it had faded into nothing more than a myth, an analogy used when talking about seeking sanctuary.

“What do you mean by that, Tooru?” Kenma asked carefully.

All their eyes glanced up for a second when they noticed how easily Suga was pulling Akaashi into conversation, matching his pacing and smiling at the same time, like he wasn’t afraid of the daunting mercenary’s air. Akaashi was smiling fondly too, holy shit, they hadn’t seen him do that in a number of years

“Was it Ushijima? Relax, my man, he respects you too much to ever make a real move against you. He’s too busy growing his weed and distributing it.” Kuroo studied Oikawa for a minute before biting his lip and asking, “Was it an older enemy?”

“Oh, they’re old all right,” Oikawa chuckled ruefully, rubbing a hand over his face, smearing away more blood. “They’re practically ancient motherfuckers.”

“Jesus Christ, stop beating around the bush and just fucking tell us what happened, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi growled, growing more agitated by the second. Oikawa was dancing around the subject to keep himself from confronting his problems.

“It started when I was just about to leave for Cancun, you know for some fun in the sun, and I got a call from Chibi-chan’s family. They said they were desperate so my kind, feeling heart went out to them because I am a caring and kind individual—” there were a few rolls at that “—It seemed like it was going to be your typical rescue job. Go in, save the kid, get out, get paid and move on with my life so I can get a nice tan in Cancun.”

“Is that not what happened?” Kuroo asked sarcastically. “I thought the blood was just a sunburn gone wrong.”

“No, I’m running for my life because it went exactly accordion to plan and I’m here to invite you all on a month long cruise around the Caribbean.” Oikawa then vehement motioned to his blood-stained clothes with a whine, “Does it look like that’s what happened, Kuroo-chan?”

* * * * * *

_Three Days Ago . . ._

Lazy music drawled into the extravagant party scene, and red wine was being passed around as commonly as drugs or beers at a rock concert. The dancers drank alcohol like tend been stranded and parched din the desert for years. He figured, by now, since he hadn’t attracted any suspicious attention, that he had done a pretty good job of blending in. Then again, everyone there seemed pretty damn drunk off their asses and overcome with loose morals. He was pretty sure that the faint squeaking sounds he was hearing were the result of someone having sex against one of the tables somewhere int he room.

The lighting was low and romantic. It wasn’t a raucous party, but it really seemed like it really was quite the celebration.

“Tonight is the night, my family, that we are granted Sunshine!”

A loud, ceaseless chant of “Sunshine” consumed the hall.

Seizing their distraction and revelry as an opportunity, Oikawa adjusted his headphones and disappeared around ta corer as a fe new trays full of red wine appeared, causing another loud cheer to echo thought the room. The hallways were all clear, so he allowed himself an easy, careless stride all while keeping a look out for any suspicious characters. While he had been casing the Infinity Hotel, Oikawa had discovered the room was the kid was being held. The plan was to make in and out as fast as possible. Avoid a fight if he could, but he brought a good number of weapons for taking out some forces, like bodyguards. Then again, it seemed that everyone other than him in the hotel was drunk and having a great time, so a knife would probably do the job just fine against their lack of coordination.

The tenth room on the tenth floor, and Oikawa did not feel like taking the goddamn stairs. He was going to take an elevator, even if it did move at a snail’s pace. He was happy he could listen to his own music rather hear the awful, boring drone of elevator music. While he tapped his foot to the beat of Hooked On A Feeling, it gave him a few minutes to think more about this job.

He wasn’t normally one to accept jobs purely out of the goodness of his heart. He was more the type to up price in the middle of the job or just before completion, pausing to call and warn the client that if they’d didn’t give him the full and newly raised price, then the job was forfeit. This, though . . . The Hinatas seemed to be the only exception, with the tears in their eyes and voicing cracking with pleas for his help in bringing their son back home to them.

“I miss my Iwa-chan,” Oikawa mumbled to himself, kicking at the fake tile looking of the elevator. “Then again, he would’ve given in to help them as easily as I did.” But he did truly miss Iwaizumi, missed the stability his best friend brought with him, missed his sleepy grumbles in the morning, missed the way they always knew exactly what the other was thinking.

They were connected, unyielding and inseparable, yet he’d needed to leave Iwaizumi in order to protect him and it had been the hardest Oikawa had ever done.

Oikawa touched his neck, remembering the way Iwaizumi’s lips had smothered it praises in the from of bites and trails of hot, wet kisses. He couldn’t help the smile on his face now, heat growing in his cheese. That night had been everything he’d ever wanted, then Oikawa had been forced to leave Iwaizumi in the morning, like a good dream you just can’t remember.

The elevator dinged, breaking out of his all consuming thoughts of Iwaizumi, barely having to steel himself before the doors opened. He slid his headphones off as he stepped out, and he felt the years of training in his body warn him to tread more carefully than he had on the floor floor where the party was being held. A chill ran up his spine, and he realized just different the air up here was. It was like another world entirely from the one closer to the ground. He stood in the center of a grand hallway until, almost pitch black, the windows painted over in the black paint. He felt as though were going sudden blink out from the wallpaper and stare at him like he was their newest meal.

Nothing about the atmosphere here said safe. So, he took out the Smith&Wesson .500 that he’d been concealing in a holster just inside his jacket.

Fear, huh? He hadn’t felt that in a long while, having grown numb to it after going on his first job at ten-years-old. It hit harder than he remembered it, like a stab in the back or an icy fire licking along his skin. Normally, Oikawa was practically drunk on the feeling of invincibility Iwaizumi always instilled in him He was a liberation of sorts, something and warm and quite the confidence booster due to his mental fortitude and physical strength. Fear, on the other hand? Yeah, OIkawa could say that he definitely wasn’t a big fan of fear. It was cold, it was lonely, it was helpless.

Each step Oikawa took felt as though he was walking against the torrential current of a riptide. Every bone in his body was screaming at him to stop and turn around, run away while he still had the chance to chicken out, but Oikawa kept moving down the hallway with slow, calculated steps. His head phones bumped against his neck, providing almost an anchor of sorts, that he wasn’t dreaming this all up. He wished he hadn’t left his guitar in the car. Th weight of the strap on his shoulder had been a constant all his life. The instrument was a gift from Iwaizumi, so it held even more meaning to him than any old guitar. Holding it, he still felt like he had a chance to reunite with his best friend.

The tenth room appeared on his right, a tall, white door with the brass number sitting head center. Oikawa stared at it, looking it over for any traps or triggers, but he found none. All he found was a strange set of writing across the meta door handle. The looked looked ancient, and were definitely not Japanese. For experimental purposes, Oikawa decided to give a few knocks to see if anyone answered. No one did, so he decided to proceed with caution once again.

He took out his butterfly knife, slipped it between the crack of the door and the wall, and after a few minutes of jiggering, the door clicked open.

He slid into the room, quieter than night.

“Really quiet,” Oikawa whispered to himself, feeling as if he should be walking on his tiptoes like a kid sneaking into the kitchen to steal a cookie. Rather, he took purposeful steps, making sure his foot was fully planted before taking the next. “I’m _so_ fucking quiet. Professional quiet person, that’s me.”

The room was empty, for the most part. There was no bed in sight, no minimal kitchen supplies like a microwave or a fridge, no TV and no bedside table. The only thing in the whole room was a spacious cage with decorative iron bars that stretched up to the ceiling, situated right in front of the gigantic bay window. The sight of it was horrible, like a giant bird cage. Inside it was a worn out futon, a cotton blanket that had been destroyed by moths, a yellowing pillow and the last in there was the six-year-old kid Oikawa had been looking for this whole time, Hinata Shouyou. Bright, ginger hair, brown eyes, and wearing the same clothes he’d been wearing when he’d been kidnapped.

Oikawa picture out the picture the Hinata family had given him and compared the two. No doubt about it, this was Hinata Shouyou.

Hinata’s face lit up and he scurried over to the bars closer to Oikawa and bounced on the balls of his feet. The bay window wasn’t painted over, so the moonlight streaming in gave Oikawa a good look at the vicious scapes and cuts across the kid’s neck and wrists. Oikawa walked over to him, scanning the room. He still couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched, like over security cameras or something.

Once Oikawa managed to undo the latch, Hinata rushed for and clutched the leg of Oikawa’s pants. “I wanna go home!” he cried out loudly, like he was on the verge of tears. He tugged harshly on the fabric of the pants. “They hurt me all over and laughed at me!”

Oikawa gently shushed him, placing a hand over Hinata’s mouth. He crouched down so he was at eye-level with the kid, glancing around them, keeping an eye especially on the door as he listened for the sound of approaching footsteps. Nothing.

“Okay, kiddo,” he whispered, turning back to look at Hinata, smiling kindly. “I promise you that I’m getting you out of here, but I need you to play the quiet game with me, all right? If you’re really quiet we’ll stop at a konbini and I’ll grab you some candy.”

Hinata nodded hurriedly with a hopeful gleam in his eyes, but that faded once something just behind Oikawa caught his attention, and he let out an ear-piercing scream of terror. Oikawa mere seconds to turn and shoot the oncoming bastard in the throat, a gunshot rising out louder than a gong in a library.

Fuck! We’re gonna have to move way faster now!

The man collapsed like a sack full of bricks, blood dribbling out of his mouth as he twitched a few times before finally falling completely still. He ws one of the bodyguards that had been stationed at the party downstairs. Oikawa hoped it was the guy who’d look like hewas on several pound of drugs, cause that guy had been staring at Oikawa like he was either undressing him with eyes or eating him alive. Uncomfortable, much?

Bloodshot eyes and dark hair, it definitely looked like him. It didn’t matter if it was him or not. He was dead now no matter who he was.

Oikawa huffed and turned back to Hinata, offering him a reassuring smile. “See? Your cool hero is gonna protect from the bad guys here, okay? No one’s going to hurt you anymore.”

Hinata nodded vigorously, a frightened twitch in his eyes as he rubbed his ears. He mumbled something about how loud the gun was, but other than that he seemed to be relatively fine. He started tugging Oikawa towards the door, whispering for him to, “Hurry up, hurry up before the bad guy wakes up!”

Oikawa would’ve chuckled at the kid’s antics. Children had wild imaginations. He, himself, had dreamed that he would have a career as a pro volleyball player and then retire to play music with Iwaizumi for the rest of his life, but reality is a brutal slap to the face and he was where he was now. A mercenary, because there was no other choice. So, again, he would’ve chuckled at Hinata’s antics, if not for the fact that now, peeking out from the crack in the doorway, was a plethora of glowing, crimson eyes, swirling with a hungry malice, and then a stranger groan came from behind him . . .

* * * * * *

Sugawara Koushi was all for karma coming to bite someone in the ass when they’d fucked up and deserved it. However, what in the name of fuck did Suga do to deserve this sort of treatment from the universe? He could say with the utmost certainty that when he eventually gave in and agreed to take over as the owner of the Sunset Motel, that he most definitely did not sign up for any of this shit. He didn’t sign up for a guy to walk in here looking hotter than Hell ever could, and then for this Oikawa Tooru to show up, completely covered in blood and pulling along that, apparently, wasn’t even his.

Suga should’ve hated that he being forcefully dragged into this troublesome, possibly violent drama, should’ve hated that they were so openly dragging that that could find and kill him if he so much as breathed a word about their very presence over the phone. He didn’t, though. The whole situation was somehow more exhilarating and invigorating, made him feel like he was finally alive, the wash, rinse and repeat routine of his life broken, and he couldn’t believe show stupid he was being for putting so more excitement into this. Suga often thought he had more common sense than to be enamored with the idea of danger, but there was definitely a pull. It was like a dancer gazing at him with bedroom eyes, luring him in closer and closer until he couldn’t it in him to leave.

Still, he had to. Oikawa Tooru knew his name, smiled at him like they were old friends, ope and welcoming. It had been a bit more than a surprise to say the very least. How did Oikawa know who he was? Howe did he know Suga’s nickname? These questions and smilier ones buzzes inside his head as Hinata came bounding up to him with the energy of a puppy meeting someone new. Then suddenly came along Mr. Dangerously Attractive, walking towards him with his hands stuffed in his coat pockets and eyes locked onto Suga, as if he was assessing him.

Orange juice. That’s right. Suga had offered orange juice rather than apple juice, right? Wow, that Akaashi Keiji had fucking gorgeous eyes. Or had Suga promised cranberry juice? Akaashi’s skin was perfect, looked so smooth, what kind of morning route did he have? Hinata was tugging on his sleeve and asking him a question. Akaashi Keiji was staring at him, his head inclined ever so slightly as if he was trying to get a better look at Suga. Too much was happening all at once for Suga to keep sane.

“The ki-kitchen—That’s where the juice is,” Suga stuttered, quickly walking away from the bar with Hinata at his side, leaving Akaashi top catch up to them, and giving Suga a moment to compose himself.

Once they stepped inside the sparkling clean kitchen, Suga finally felt like he could breath a sigh of relief. The lounge felt taken over, like it wasn’t his motel’s space at all, more a den full of lions, but at lest the kitchen was a space he knew. It hadn’t been infiltrated yet.

He took out the juicer from the upper cupboards and sliced a few oranges in half. He looked down at Hinata who was rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet impatiently, and asked him, “Do you like your orange juice with pulp or no?” And from the way Hinata’s face twisted into disgust, he assumed that the answer was a no. With a shrug, he went back to juicing the oranges and pretending that he didn’t have his back to a criminal, then he poured the liquid through a strainer to remove all the pulp so Hinata would be happy.

A shover crawled up Suga’s spine as he glimpsed back at Akaashi. It was like having your back turned on a tiger, danger just looming over his shoulder. The criminal was leaning against a counter, pulling out a stray, crumpled piece of paper from his jacket as well as a pen for Hinata to doodle with. When he felt Suga’s eyes on him, he looked and nodded ever so slightly.

“Do you want something to drink as well?” Suga asked curiously. “All your friends int here have had something, save the new guy.” Maybe this how he would die, asking a stupidly mundane question to a potential murderer. Really, not the coolest way to go out.

“I’d like some water, thank you,” Akaashi replied, without even beat of thought. He hopped up and sat on the counter with ease, still keeping eye-contact with Suga. “I’m feeling rather thirsty. I had to rush over here from the airport.”

“So . . .” _Don’t you dare let your curiosity get the better of you. Do you want to die?_ Suga poured the orange juice into a kids cup for Hinata, also managing to find a swirly straw for him too. He then poured Akaashi a glass of ice cold water and walked over to offer it to him. “Are you from around here, Japan, or did your friend make you come out of you way to meet with him?” _What the fuck did I just warn you about? Is not listening to your conscious becoming a new habit?_

“You’re an inquisitive sort, aren’t you?” Akaashi’s vice held the slightest edge of amusement. ”You know it’s none of your business to begin with him, know that asking questions and getting involved could easily get you killed by one or more of us, but you asked me anyway, knowing all that. Why? You’re not part of our world.”

Suga let out a squeaky, bashful laugh and tried to wave it off, even though he felt the stress tighten like a coil in the pit of his stomach. Had he gone too far? It was just a silly little quest. Oh fuck, he had gone too far, hadn’t he? “I’m sorry if I’m pry, but I was just wondering—”

“What’s also odd is that I don’t mind answering you at all.” Akaashi hummed to himself, elating back against the wall and making himself comfortable. He took. Large swig of water and Suga watched him swallow, suddenly feeling very thirsty himself. “No, I’m not from this area, specifically. Was actually over in Russia visiting an old friend of Kuroo-san and Kozume-san’s when Oikawa-san contacted me.”

“I know this is none of my business—”

“It really isn't. You shouldn’t poke the tiger, Sugawara Koushi.”

Well, that was a warning if Suga had ever seen movies centered around people in organized crime.

Suga took an incredibly shaky breath as he spied the handle of a sword poking out from behind the collar of Akaashi’s coat. “You couldn’t have called this Oikawa back instead of coming all this way to tell him that you would’ve be helping him?”

“Oikawa-san never uses the same phone to twice. Too much of a risk of being pinned down by the police. He does have private line that only Iwaizumi-san can contact. For all his frivolity, he’s undeniably got a cautious streak.” When Akaashi noticed Suga’s alarmed expression, he cracked a small grin. “You’ve been overhearing everything we’ve been saying, so you should know by now that we’re not exactly the most law abiding citizens the world has ever seen.”

“But I heard you say that you’re trying to change, right?” Suga asked, noticing the way Akaashi’s and tightened around the glass cup, his knuckles turning white.

“Yeah . . . I’m trying too, anyway, but it’s not easy.” Akaashi affirmed. His eyes were downcast as he looked down at his right hand like it was the hand that had plunged the knife into his back. “I’m trying, but . . . Kuroo-san might be right, though. An asshole, but he has a point. It’s exactly like a bloodthirsty cannibal trying to go vegan. I want to do something better with my life, right some of the many wrongs I’ve brought upon people . . . but—”

“Then just do it,” Suga interrupted, to Akaashi’s surprise. His eyes widened at the brusque tone in the motel owner’s voice. Suga reaches down and covered Hinata’s ears, who looked around like a confused puppy. “Fuck Kuroo.” He then turned around to quickly fill up a glass of water for himself and immediately downed it all, fully aware of Akaashi’s confused stare on him.

“I’d really rather not fuck Kuroo-san,” Akaashi replied, utterly deadpan. “He’s real pain on the ass, yes, but I don’t want him actually in my eyes.”

Suga chucked on his water, coughing loudly. “No, not literally fuck him—Wow, no, I wouldn’t say that—Just—What I mean is this: fuck his opinion of your capabilities. You’re trying to do something good, right? He isn’t, so who is he to say something against your efforts?”

Akaashi took another gulp of water. “He’s a schemer, always has been, that’s why he gets along with Oikawa so well, and he and I clash. The two of them know exactly how to get under my skin. Iwaizumi is the noble one, honorable and steadfast to Oikawa to a fault. Kenma’s the best of us all, I think. He won’t kill, swears he won’t, but he will easily print counterfeit money, has an eye for the details needed to the make the forgery accurate. Then there’s me . . .” He reached behind his head and touched the handle of the sword. “. . . Then there’s me. I don’t know who I am in the group, and I don’t know why I’m so willing to talk to you about this.”

“Well, I’ve been told I’m great listener,” Suga smiled kindly. He motioned around them. “It’s how I got stuck with this place. I listened without arguing, without sticking up for what I wanted. I don’t actually know what I want out of life but it wasn’t this, I should’ve lied so I could’ve used the opportunity the find out, but I didn’t and now I’m the owner of the Sunset Motel.”

Akaashi cocked his head to the side and blinked owlishly. “You didn’t to own this place? Why not? You fit the profile.”

Well, that stung. Suga liked to think that maybe he looked like someone meant for excitement, but now he was beginning to second guess himself. Maybe it was another way in which he didn’t compare to others, another way in which he didn’t stand out.

“I don’t want to trouble you, someone who could kill me, with my mundaneness,” Suga sighed, leaning against he counter and reaching out to Hinata another glass of orange juice. The kids was perfectly content to doodle away on a piece of paper with a men, mumbling something about drawing black birds.

“But you do regret having to take over this place?” Akaashi asked inquisitively. Suga eyed the criminal with wary eyes, but Akaashi showed no signs of mockery or sarcasm, like eh really did want to listen to what Suga had to say. That was a first, most people wanted to talk to Suga about their problems but never wanted to reciprocate and listen to his.

“Well, we all have regrets,” Suga snapped, not viciously but tiredly. So much rested on his shoulders and he never asked for any of this weight, the weight of his family’s expectations especially his grandparents’. None of them had even offered to help run the motel, leaving it all to him to learn and manage in a hurry. They just expected him to accept that he was on his own and continue like that, all for them. “I regret following my family’s wishes without sticking up for myself. I regret not finding where I belong sooner so I couldn’t ahem gotten stuck with the Sunset Motel. I regret getting myself and my employees caught up in overhearing everything you’ve all been talking about, putting us all at risk. You probably regret coming here because o this Oikawa Tooru—”

“I don’t regret coming here,” Akaashi interrupted, cool as ice. He smiled, something soft and warming, at Suga, and the motel owner felt and heard his own heart drum loudly in his chest. “Well, I don’t regret it anymore. I’ve got a weakness for pretty brown eyes like yours. Oikawa’s are nice and all, really, but yours have a certain shine to them that is just lovely.”

Suga searched Akaashi for any signs of lying, but he found nothing that gave the stranger away. Did this guy, who Suga would swear up and down as one of the most attractive people he’d ever seen in his whole life, genuinely think that Suga was good looking? That was really hard to believe, given how extraordinary people just inside the lounge were. They were exciting, they were dangerous, they had an identity, an air about them that projected how special they were. Suga was just Sugawara Koushi, the dude with the motel that Oikawa just so happened to pick or them all to meet up at before running off on some grand adventure together.

“You don’t really mean that,” Suga eventually arrived at.

Akaashi finished up his water and leaned over to lay the glass in the sink. He then looked at Suga and said, far too easily, “I don’t lie, especially to pretty faces like yourself.” _Holy fuck, I think an attractive murderer is flirting with me_ , Suga fretted, _and is really putting some effort into it too._

”You know, you’re not so hard to look at either,” Suga grinned, crossing his arms over his chest. Hey, if Akaashi wasn’t going to lie, then neither was Suga. “Actually, you’re angelically attractive to the point that it is insanely unfair tothe rest of us mortals”

“I get that a lot, but it seems that you don’t get told that nearly enough.”

Well, then. Suga was just about to give a sharp retort about how he’d been called gorgeous a few times in his life, thank you very much, but an abrupt influx of voices carried in from the lounge stopped him before he could even open his mouth. Akaashi hopped off the counter, his eyes steeled into a murderous concentration that made the hairs on eh back of Suga’s neck stand on end. Meanwhile, Hinata dropped his orange juice and rushed to hide behind Suga’s leg, whimpering the same phrase over and over again like a broken record, his voice breaking with fright, “They’re here, they’re here, they’e here—!”

Suga shushed him gently and knelt down to face Hinata. “It’s going to be just fine, okay? I’m staying right here with you.”

“Oikawa-san said I was safe, but they’re back! He lied to me! They’re going to hurt me again!”

“Oikawa-san might be real a son of a bitch, but’s no liar.” Akaashi removed his jacket and cast it to the floor. He maneuvered the sheath of his sword, a katana, to his left side and rested his hand against the hilt. “He said he would keep you safe, so he will. Trust Oikawa-san, Hinata. He must have some sort of plan.”

Laughter floated through the air, like a lively night party full of drunks, and an incessant cheating of two words. On the surface, yes, ti did sound like a celebration, but there was a hint pf malice in their voices, a hunger and a drive that made them all nervous.

“Sunshine! Sunshine! Sunshine! Sunshine!”

“Fledgling! Fledgling! Fledgling! Fledgling!”

Tsukishima, Yamaguchi and Ennoshita burst into the kitchen like they had the devil chasing them. Their faces were pale fright as they huddled to hide behind the island counter, like they and just seen a ghost.

“So, we have more guests!” Ennoshita said, not even attempting to sound calm. He blindly reached out and grabbed a butter knife and held it like he was going to stab someone, as if a butter knife would actually be a scary weapon. “And these ones look even less friendly that our current ones! I say we don’t even vote on it, say fuck it to this place and make a run for it before we caught up in anymore dangerous shit! Suga?”

“Well, who are they?” Suga asked. He squatted further down so Hinata could climb onto his back. “Where did they come from?”

“Don’t know, don’t care and don’t ever want to find out,” Tsukishima responded, with a dash of annoyance, glancing towards apprehensively at the door entry from the kitchen to the lounge.

“They surrounded the table where that Oikawa Tooru guy and his friends are,” Yamaguchi replied nervously. “Maybe they’re old gang rivals or something, but I really think Ennoshita is right and we should run while we can, no matter who they are. We’re in enough trouble as it is. They’re acting higher and dangerous.”

A gunshot rang out through the air, so suddenly that no one had had the time to cover their ears to shield them from the noise. Hinata shirked and Suga cried out at the sound, losing his footing as the sound surprised him. Everyone else acted just as uncoordinated except Akaashi, who seemed very accustomed to the sound of gunfire, like it was more common to than hearing a bird singing in the early morning. He welcomed the sound as he strode forward while the employees of the motel nursed their ears. He motioned for them to follow, and though they were very reluctant at first, they followed him once he tightened his grip on his katana as a warning.

“Run, and it’ll be us that chases you down,” Akaashi promised darkly, “and that really is the last thing you want. You don’t want to incur Oikawa-san’s wrath.”

Bizarrely enough, the lounge was still when they walked out, after Ennoshita in a fit of panic distributed various sizes of steak knives, the sounds of celebration having died out and only the sounds of music were coming from the jukebox playing in the background. Oikawa and Iwaizumi were standing back-to-back, one of them wielding a heavy shotgun and the other raising two shiny handguns. Kuroo was holding Kenma close to his side, a knife clenched between his teeth, and smaller blades held between each of his fingers. Meanwhile, the new guests stood with no weapons, like mannequins, dressed in formal party attire and various sizes and shapes of white masks covering their faces. Suga grimaced as he looked around, this whole thing reminding him of the freaking as fuck movie, the _Purge_.

“Oikawa Tooru,” one of them whispered, walking forward and swaying as if caught in a breeze. “It’s only been a short while since you joined our family, but we missed you.”

“You’re part of us now, Oikawa Tooru,” another sang, swaying in time with the other, dancing to an unheard rhythm. More and more joined in with the two. “Can’t you hear the call of your sire? He’s in pain, you know? Can you feel him? Mourning that you shot him in cold blood. You, his newest son.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Oikawa seethed through his teeth. He pressed a hand to the wound on his neck and hissed in pain, like it was burning him. “I don’t feel anything—” He cut himself off as he screamed, his knee buckling out from under him. Iwaizumi caught him and shook him, demanding what was wrong.

“You do feel it, fledgling,” the whole crowd of them echoed, simultaneously taking one step forward. Iwaizumi curled himself around Oikawa to protect him, glaring daggers at the strangers. “Why deny it? You belong with us now.”

Suga took a step back, standing up straight to and shield Hinata from view, and clenching the steak knife tightly in his hand. _What the actual fuck is going on?_ He did not like how they were all talking in unison like the twins at the end of the hall from the Shining, didn’t like how they were all wearing white masks that made their eyes, a reddish hue, pop. The whole thing screamed cult to him, and he as he looked at his friends, he could see that they were thinking along the same lines as him. Oh fun, not the sarcasm.

“ _Sunshine!_ ”

A frail member of the group stumbled in front of Suga and reached out, his hands pale and thin, like he was only skin and bones. His mask slipped away, revealing bloodshot eyes the area around them hollowed out and darkened, snow pale skin and mangy hair. The man moved with a burst of speed and latched desperately onto Hinata, trying to rip him off Suga’s back, but he ran right into the steak knife Suga had been holding. With a groan, the man looked down at where he’d been impaled and still continued to reach for Hinata like a man desperate for treasure, but Ennoshita pulled the kid out of the way just in time.

The man yelled in frustration and seized Suga by the arms and frantically whispered, “I’m so hungry! I haven’t eaten in days, all while waiting for Sunshine! I need to _eat_!”

He grasped Suga by the throat and opened his mouth, a rush of hot air hitting Suga, making him reach out to push the man away. There was a quick flash of black and then the hum of metal slicing through the air. In horror, Suga watched as the head of the man slid off his neck, blood spurting onto him, and it tumbled to the floor, face frozen in surprise. Suga looked up and saw Akaashi, with a blaze of fury in his eyes, brandishing his katana, blood dripping down the shined metal tip.

Hundreds of screams ripped through the air from the newest guests at the Sunset Motel, raw, hungry and enraged. Hinata started crying as he held on tightly to Ennoshita’s chef jacket. The volume of the screams awakened Oikawa from his pain.

“Oikawa, I’m giving you one last chance to explain to us what the fuck is going on! No nonsense this time!” Iwaizumi shouted, shoving his leader to his feet.

“I told you already, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa snapped, unsteady on his feet as he raise dhis guns once again. “These fuckers are vampires!”


	3. APPLE BLOSSOM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey, little apple blossom  
> What seems to be the problem?  
> All the ones you tell your troubles to  
> They don’t really care for you  
> Come and tell me what you’re thinking  
> ‘Cause just when the boat is sinking  
> A little light is blinking  
> And I will come and rescue you  
> —Apple Blossom by The White Stripes

Vampires, huh? That’s not something you heard everyday.

In any other circumstances, Suga would’ve absolutely loved to Oikawa Tooru expand on his previous sentence, maybe fill in some critical, need to know information about how he arrived at that conclusion. No one got the chance to ask him explain that statement as soon he said it, though, because the crowd of newcomers to the Sunset Motel descended upon them all like a swarm of bats. Ear-Piercing shrieks, gnashing teeth, hungry snarls and ripping hands. It was overwhelming, chaos, like a tornado was suddenly crashing through the motel’s lounge. Suga and his employees were a circle around Hinata to keep him out of sight and out of harm’s way, meanwhile Oikawa Tooru and his crew were a storm of violence . . . and it was kind of, no, it was really fucking cool.

Iwaizumi Hajime blasted through crowds of intruders and reloading with the speed of lightning, not even having to totally have his targets in sight in order to hit them with deadly accuracy. In the rare moments where he wasn’t given even a second to reload, his shotgun was used to crack and shatter through skulls with brute force. Once Oikawa had told him that putting a bullet through the head and the heart seemed to do the trick, Iwaizumi had happily taken slightly more careful aim in his shots. It was like he never missed and like his pockets were a bottomless well for bullets.

Then there was Kuroo Tetsurou, lithe and flexible like a feline. Having run out of his knives, rather quickly because when he threw a knife and it didn’t seem to stop them or even slow then down, he’d improvised.He snapped the cue poles at the pool tables in half, right over his knee, and started stabbing the monsters through the heart. Kenma was helping out by tripping the various oncoming attackers so Kuroo was given a window of opportunity to stab and move onto the next.

Akaashi Keiji wielded his katana like it was an extension of himself. It was like he was dancing. The way he turned on his heels or his toes, swing and slicing his katana was like eh was spinning a baton. He cut through the mask individuals like they were nothing but paper, and Suga was in awe of the graceful strength Akaashi carried within in. Sure, now blood spraying all around him from every which way, but looking at him, Suga found a new sense of comfort instilled in him. Akaashi was killing ceaselessly to protect them, never backing down no matter how many came at them at one time. They all watched him stab through the heart and slice heads clean off, arms and legs like it was the only thing he was born to do.

And finally, there was Oikawa Tooru, and he was . . . significantly different when compared to his friends. He was like a Tasmanian devil, an unnatural, dim glow in his eyes, turning them from the sweet, chocolate brown to a rusted metal hue. Oikawa was stronger, faster and shot with frightening precision, burying a bullet in the center of every attack that came his way, until he was completely out of bullets. Iwaizumi shouted for him to run, but they all watched in awe as something slipped down from Oikawa’s wrist, a silver chain whip, which suddenly ripped through the air and latched around the neck of one of the monsters, causing it to scream before it suddenly . . . disintegrated?

“Holy shit, Oikawa!” Kuroo exclaimed, narrowly dodging a clawed hand reaching for his throat to then the man through the heart with the wooden steak. The body crumpled to the floor, curling in one itself like a dying insect and then turning into what looked like sawdust. “Is that Wonder Woman’s Lasso of Truth or something?”

“I literally just carved a cross into the blade on the end, then stopped by some shrine in the middle of Fucking Nowhere and got the whole chain blessed!” Oikawa shouted back, spinning away from three attacks. The metal easily ripping through the three throat, blood praying out of the open wounds like a sprinkler. “I didn’t think it would really be worth anything at the time, but it seems I was right to take that chance!”

However, even with that blessed whip of Oikawa’s, for every five intruders they cut down, thirty more appeared, crawling in from a window after smashing through the glass. If theydint retreat soon, find some place to hunker down and formulate a plan, they were going to end up very dead, very soon. Suga could see it in all of them: none of them wanted to die, couldn’t even begin to entertain the notion of dying, and they were all so busy fighting for their lives against the masses, that they didn’t have time make an escape route.

Suga needed to help, this was his motel they were trapped in. The kitchen was the closest place to find refuge, and in the kitchen was an assortment of knives that they could be used as weapons. Plus, there was a supply closet there that could be locked from the inside. It was worth a try, at the very least. So, Sugastood with shaky legs, trying to find his voice. There was so muchnoise, the clashing of metals, screams and gunshots. How could he make a sound over any of this racket?

When he was hit with a spray of blood, he shuddered out a gasp of horror. “Akaashi!” he finally managed to croak out, through the shock. “There’s a supply closet in the kitchen! Sh-Should we try and hide there to formulate some sort of plan? Or just hide? Hiding sounds like fun, doesn’t it?”

Akaashi dint even look at him and Suga was about to shout it out again, thinking he wasn’t heard but then . . . “Oikawa-san!” Akaashi shouted, diving into a roll just after slicing another vampire clean in half. He start maneuvering the employees towards the kitchen door, keeping his sword out to intimidate any future attacks. “Did you hear that? Should we try it?”

“Of course I heard him!” Oikawa turned and sent a blinding smile in Suga’s direction. “Leave it to my Refreshing-kun to keep a sound mind during a crisis!” Without further ado, he reached over and grabbed Iwaizumi but the collar of his jacket and started pulling him through the crowd, making a beeline for the kitchen doors. “Kuroo! Kenma! We’re exiting stage left! Follow!”

“We’ll meet you there!” Kuroo called out, stabbing another monster right through the heart.

Oikawa tossed Iwaizumi towards the door and whirled around, the whip tearing the air through him, glowing golden in the lights above him. “Kuroo, you know better than anyone that when I say, “We’re making an exit!” I really mean, “Get your fucking ass over here _now_ , no ifs, ands or buts!” Am I making myself absolutely crystal fucking clear, Kuroo?”

“Kuro! Come on already!” Kenma exclaimed desperately, grabbing his boyfriend and hauling him towards the back with surprising amount of strength, keeping a good grip on Kuroo no matter how much he struggled to stay and fight. “You’re a terrible boyfriend if you die on me here!”

With a frustrated growl, Kuroo gave up on trying to make a heroic stand, scooped up Kenma and raced towards the rest of them with everything he had. Iwaizumi shot just over his shoulders to hit any vampires that tried to attack Kuroo while his back was turned, while Akaashi and Oikawa kept the nearby monsters at bay. Suga picked up Hinata and shouted for them to follow him once Kuroo arrived.

They skittered into the the kitchen just as a large pack leaped into the air, snarling at them like coyotes. With a few more narrow escapes, mostly leading to Oikawa taking a stand on the kitchen island and several horizontal turns with his whip to take out ten vampires at once. He leaped down to join Suga and the rest as they burst into the supply closet, no worse for wear. That was good, right?

So, now that Suga thought about it, did he just back them into a corner, put them even more into a precarious, helpless position?

He could hear the sounds of nails scraping against the wooden door, the wails and the snarls, just outside. This couldn’t be their only plan. They needed another way out.

Oikawa skipped over and excitedly ruffled Suga’s hair, like this was nothing more than a happy reunion and like they weren’t in a situation where they might have to fight for their survival for the rest of the night. “You’re still quite the quick thinker, Suga-chan!” he laughed, and at the cheerful sound, Suga suddenly didn’t feel so helpless. He sounded so sure of himself, but it still unnerved the motel owner that Oikawa _knew_ him somehow.

“I’m sorry, but so I know you?” Suga blurted out, setting Hinata down who was shaking like a leaf in a storm. “You act like you know and I _don’t_ know you. You’re a criminal and I don’t any criminals so . . . _explain please?_ ” Oikawa gave him a bemused expression, but Suga wasn’t even halfway down. “And vampires? Those are real fucking vampires, aren’t they? And you brought them to my motel? Why? What did I ever do to you to in the past that makes you think that this would be a good revenge plot? Seriously, what the did I do to you?”

Akaashi walked over and placed a hand on Suga’s shoulder, reassuringly. Suga knew that he probably should’ve shaken him off, he was with Oikawa after all, but it was a kind gesture, something he found he needed in that moment. Then Akaashi took out a small cloth from his pocket and started cleaning the blood off Suga’s face. The gentle caress of the fabric somehow worked to soothe Suga back into a calm state of mind now that he couldn’t feel the drops of crimson running down his cheeks.

“Well, do know each other, Suga-chan. From high school?” Oikawa replied, as evenly as he could, trying not to aggravate Suga any further than he already had. “You and I were both setters for the volleyball team, remember?”

“Oh? Oh! Of course! Oikawa Tooru?” Suga asked sarcastically, placing his hand son his hips. When Oikawa nodded excitedly, Suga snapped, “Listen, honey, I don’t even remember what I had for breakfast this morning, so I’m sure as hell not gonna remember some sporty, rocking twink from high school! I was a goddamn mess back then just trying to fucking figure myself out, just trying to get into a university so advisor could get of my back!” He gave himself a second to calm down and looked Oikawa up and down, deciding that, yeah, maybe he was relatively familiar. “Were you the guy that was gonna go pro?”

Oikawa nodded solemnly.

“Then how the hell did you end up—?”

“Covered in more blood than Stephen King’s _Carrie_?” Oikawa chuckled ruefully, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against a rickety shelf. “Yeah, I never did get to try and go pro. I had to start taking part in the family business instead, rather than pursue a normal life. Shit happens, I guess. I’m over it.”

“Enough with the chit chat already, Oikawa!” Iwaizumi barked, effectively silencing everyone in the room, and even leaving the monsters just beyond the wooden door quiet. He turned around and glowered at Oikawa, his eyes no longer a calming forest, but a raging emerald flame. Oikawa didn’t back down, though, and offered him a small smile instead. “What the hell is going on, Shittykawa? Those . . . aren’t human—And I know you said that—but how can they really exist?”

“I don’t know, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa replied honestly. “But they do exist, and they’re here to finish killing me and to take Hinata away with them to do who knows what to him!”

Hinata buried himself against Ennoshita’s leg, whimpering. Ennoshita knelt down and pulled the kid into a hug, telling him that it would be all right. Though, he didn’t even know that himself.

“I have to admit,” Kuroo mumbled, pulling Kenma closer to him. “Oikawa, you’ve gotten us involved in a lot of shit before, but, being the eternal skeptical that I am,, I never thought we would get involved with something supernatural, you know?”

“You’re handling this remarkably well, Kuro,” Kenma appreciated, giving his boyfriend a small smile, “being the skeptic that you are.”

“So, those fuckers outside that door really are vampires, then?” Iwaizumi asked, searching Oikawa’s unchanging eyes, which gazed back with such fondness. “No shit?”

“Well, gee, Iwaizumi, what could’ve given it away?” Akaashi asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he raised an eyebrow in amusement.

“The red eyes? The fangs? Oh, you know what, Akaashi?” Suga asked rhetorically.

“What, Sugawara?” Akaashi asked, playing along.

“ _Maybe_ it was the way one of them tried to suck my fucking blood!” Suga finished, his voice raising to a shout as he glared at Iwaizumi. Quite a bold move, confronting Iwaizumi like that. It certainly made the mercenary pause, blinking owlishly.

Ennoshita placed his hands over Hinata’s ears as he searched for anywhere else to look, trying to act as though he was not in the center of the argument. Suga ran his fingers through his hair and moved to stand by the rest of his staff, picking up Hinata whispering an apology as he held him close to comfort the kid. He needed to breath, needed to find some remnant of peace amongst the chaos that currently surrounded him.

“All right, so. Yeah, vampires,” Akaashi said, equally as surprised by Suga’s biting tone but also impressed by how easily he was willing to snap at someone as intimidating as Iwaizumi. It was kind of—No, really hot. “What do we know about vampires? We now know, for a fact, that religious weapons burn them and—” he motioned to the silver chains wrapped around Oikawa’s wrists like a snake “—disintegrates them?”

“Going off Bram Stoker and other books, wooden stakes to the heart kill them, which we also know is true,” Kenma added, pointing to Kuroo’s broken pool cues which he’d been using as makeshift stakes. “And we also know that decapitation works. So, what we need are weapons. Hajime?”

 ** _BANG!_** They all flinched at the sound, aside from Oikawa, reminded of the terror and monsters they were facing and how fragile the wooden protecting them was. Time was short. They could hear some whispers again like “Sunshine” and “Fledgling,” chanted over and over again like a mantra. Both Hinata and Oikawa’s eyes were locked on the door, glazed over like they hypnotized but they made no move to leave.

“I did bring a fuckton of weapons,” Iwaizumi confirmed, nodding. He reached over and shook Oikawa out of reverie, his brows knitting together. “Guns, knives, grenades, bullets, everything. We just have to get to my room, but with the vampires out there, I don’t know how we’re going to do it.”

“ _Dead Alive_ ,” Ennoshita cut in suddenly. With victorious realization, he rose to his feet and began to rifle through the boxes and equipment in the room. Yamaguchi’s face lit up as he understood what his co-worker was muttering about. “There’s a lawn mower in here somewhere, right, Tsukishima? You just used it yesterday.”

“A lawn mower?” Kuroo asked, raising an eyebrow. “How the hell is a lawn mower gonna help us?”

“Haven’t any of you ever seen _Dead Alive_? It’s one of Peter Jackson’s first projects!” Ennoshita demanded, Turing to face them. He searched all their faces for understanding but was disappointed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I’m trapped in a room full of people with no appreciate for good horror comedy classics. Fantastic. Okay, so. _Dead Alive_ is what introduced the world to Peter Jackson. You know, the director of the _Lord of the Rings_ movies? It’s known as one of the bloodiest and goriest horror movies of all time.” And with that Ennoshita went back to tearing through the room, grumbling about how they were all fucking idiots that don’t watch movies.

“In the movie—I remember you showing me this, Ennoshita—there’s a scene in which the protagonist takes a lawn mower and uses it to cut through a crowd of zombies,” Yamaguchi finished with excitement. “It was unbearably scary for me, but it might help us. A lawn mower could easily cut through those vampires, given from what we all saw. They’re strong, yeah, but it’s like their undead bodies are fragile. Decapitation is normally quite difficult, right?”

“Yes,” Akaashi agreed. “Their bodies are soft. usually, I have to put more effort in to take someone’s head off. Slicing through bone is difficult, even with Japanese steel.”

“It could work, Tsukishima added in. “I say we do it. There’s also a chainsaw in here somewhere from when I have to cut the big tree branches. We can use that too.”

Akaashi, Kuroo, Kenma and Iwaizumi all turned to Oikawa who was slumped against the shelf, his breathing uneven once again as his fingers gently brushed the wound on his neck.

“Then let’s do it,” Oikawa grinned, standing up to turn and face them all. He flinched when he tried to crack his neck, his hand immediately pressing down on the wound underneath the dying bandage. Fresh blood was beginning to drip down his neck was he was growing pale once again.

Iwaizumi reached towards him but Oikawa waved him off with a wobbling smile, masking his pain.

“Iwa-chan is the only one here actually strong enough to hold up a lawn mower for an extended amount of time, so that’ll go to him. Kenma, you’ll take over Iwa-chan’s rifle. Iwa-chan and I taught you everything about guns, so you should be fine. I know you hate killing, but we need you to do this all right?” Kenma nodded, taking the shotgun and leftover bullets from Iwaizumi. “Akaashi, Kuroo, Kenma, whoever gets the chainsaw and I will form a circle to protect Iwa-chan and the rest of you. Once we get to Iwa-chan’s room, we load up and think of some final way to torch these motherfuckers. Okay? Protect each other above all else. We don’t leave anyone behind.”

“I’ll take the chainsaw,” Suga volunteered, stepping forward. His heart was beating wildly in his chest, like a bird trying to escape its cage, and his hands shook with panic, but he looked at Oikawa with all the determination he could muster. He really didn’t even know if he could do this, but he needed to try. “The Sunset Motel is mine. I have to do what I can to protect my employees and anyone staying under my roof.”

“I knew you would still have some spunk in you, Suga-chan,” Oikawa laughed. “Then that settles it. Find the lawn mower and the chainsaw, and we’ll move out immediately. No sense in waiting around for our demise. We have a long night ahead of us, I think.”

Just outside, there was a hungry wail and the sound of nails scratching at the wood. Oikawa finally walked over to Iwaizumi and leaned against him, pressing his nose and mouth agains the crook of his best friend’s neck, whimpering softly and sniffling like he was crying. Suga was surprised to see Iwaizumi soften like he did, his ire dissolving into care as he raised a hand to gingerly card his fingers through his leader’s hair with a small smile.

“I got you,” Iwaizumi whispering, soft as a lullaby. Suga could’ve sworn he saw Iwaizumi he could see the mercenary refrain from kissing the top of Oikawa’s head. Why was he holding back? “I’m here now. I’ll always be here for you.”

* * * * * *

Like a miracle, a small pink flower blossoming from a cold, grey stone, they found the chainsaw and the lawn mower. The engines revved to life with loud roars like a pack of lions. Possible, even some fucking hope was rekindled amongst the group as they looked to the door where their enemies lay in wait. Suga felt a thrill of excitement run like river through him as but also felt the cold sting of fear in the back of his mind as he raised the shuddering weapon up, ready or as ready as he could convince himself to be. Kenma cocked the shotgun and braved it against his shoulder for support. Kuroo juggled the wooden stakes made from the pool cues and caught them with ease, to ready himself. Oikawa loaded his gun and unraveled the chain from around his wrist, looking to iwaizumi who heaved the lawn mower up and sent an affirming nod to Oikawa.

Oikawa kicked the closet door open without a second thought and the vampires swarmed them, but Iwaizumi pushed the lawn mower, the underside with the blades, forward and began to cut down the vampires left and right. Blood, liquid and coagulated, spurted out from the wounds of the shredding bodies, grey, rotting organs ripped into nothing as Iwaizumi took the first few steps forward.

Kuroo, Suga and Akaashi took the front alongside Iwaizumi while Kenma and Oikawa proceeded to cover the back, slicing and shooting to fend off the vampires that escapes Iwaizumi’s wrath. Ennoshita, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi crowded around Hinata to keep him from sight, but it was like the vampires, like bloodhounds, could smell him out, filled with a famished rage.

The screams and wails around them grew more and more intense as they doubled their efforts to pierce through the circle of defense the humans had created. A great many of them reached out to Oikawa with a sort of awe reverence, a gleam of awe in their eyes as they fell to their knees before him, trying to grab onto his clothes.

“Fledgling!” they cried desperately. “Please come home with us! Your sire, our father, your father, he is miserable without you! Can’t you hear him cry? Be reborn with his blood! Drink from him like he drank from you and be anew!”

“Oikawa, what the fuck are they talking about?” Iwaizumi shouted towards the back, giving a harsh shove of the lawn mower to slice through three vampires. His eyes locked with his best friend’s, concerned and furious. “Did they—”

“Not important! Just keep moving, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa ordered, his chain whipping through the air like a slice of gold, the blade cutting through multiple vampires in one sweep. They screamed and then crumbled into dust. “I’ll explain everything once we’re safe in your room! Just get us there first!”

Suga had never given much thought to how it would feel to cut through a body with a chainsaw, mostly because he wasn’t a murderous psychopath where murder were his daydreams, and from the moment he’d been handed the tool, he’d conjured up a plethora of reservations. Suga didn’t know how to kill, it wasn’t in his nature. He was good he was kind. He couldn’t even bring himself to kill spider (always tried to herd it out the door before tsukishima would come along with a rolled up newspaper). He never wanted to kill. However, the way Oikawa had looked at him, right in the eyes, and said, “It’s you or it’s them, and I would much rather have you alive and well in the world than them, Suga-chan. Believe it or not, you’re the kind of person the world needs.” His words lit a fire in Suga. It wasn’t that he suddenly developed the thick skin to kill without care, no, it was more like he realized that he needed to do this in order to protect his staff, Hinata and possibly Oikawa and his crew.

So, Suga continued to rip and shred through vampires, masking himself with a cold exterior to hide the distress and pain he felt inside. He tried to forget that, at some point, these nasty creatures were once human, just as he was now.

There was a flash of black that momentarily distracted the vampire in front of Suga, giving him enough time to ram the chainsaw through eh monster and slice it in half, grey organs and a waterfall of blood spilling out. The flash of black was odd, but it certainly wasn’t the oddest thing that had happened that night.

Iwaizumi interrupted Suga’s thoughts with a feral snarl as he swung the lawn mower from side-to-side, cutting down vampire after vampire that came at him, but more and more kept coming like parasites invading a body. The masses grew to an all-time high, especially once they escaped the kitchen, having killed every vampire behind them. All that was left to do was keep moving forward and navigate through the lounge and then to the rooms.

Suga caught a glimpse of himself through a window in the lounge and saw how drenched with blood he was now, watch himself swing the chainsaw through the bodies and sawing off heads. His light blond hair was dyed a rusted color now, and his clothe were stained pure crimson with chunks of flesh clinging to and hanging off the fabrics. He was utterly shocked to see himself like that, glaring and ruthless to defend, but he had no more time to think about that for very long because another vampire reared its ugly head, which Suga quickly and efficiently sawed off, grimacing to keep the spraying blood from getting into his eyes.

“I must say, you’re doing great, Sugawara,” Akaashi admired, stepping to stand and sight by Suga’s side. He was swinging the katana through the air, the metal blade singing as it through the air and then screamed as it buried itself in the neck of a vampire. With a a yank, he scraped it right through the bone. “Just a little longer than you can rest, I think.”

“Rest? Me? I’m just getting started,” Suga snipped playfully, even though his arms felt as heavy as lead. “Are you sure it isn’t you who’s tired, Akaashi? I thought you hardened killers would have some stamina to brag about.”

“You two are going to be so cute together when you finally bang, but I would like to point out that now is not the time for flirting!” Kuroo called out, almost laughing cutting himself off with a grunt as he pulled a stake out of vampire’s heart. “Iwaizumi! We need to veer off to the right! If we get closer to the way, we can inch our way towards the opening faster if we don’t have to cover every side of our circle!”

“Don’t fucking backseat drive me, Kuroo! I know where I’m going!” Iwaizumi snapped, swerving the lawn mower to the side and pushing forward.

“Then why aren’t we moving—? Not that right! Your other right! Oh my god, Iwaizumi!”

“Okay! Fine! You know what, Kuroo? _You_ try pushing a heavy ass lawn mower through a horde of vampires and let’s see how fast _you_ move while _I_ whine and complain just like you’re doing now, huh? Want to try that?”

“Boys, boys!” Oikawa shouted, silencing them all with five consecutive shots, effectively taking down five vampires. “The Dick Measuring Contest is over! You’re both blessed with dicks, congratulations, now shut up and kill some undead fuckers already! Kenma is compelling less than you two and that is definitely saying something!”

“I’m tired but I will not hesitate to shoot someone in the face, if you two don’t man up!” Kenma barked out with a fierce glare in their direction.

“That’s the spirit, Kenma!” Oikawa cheered. “Rein in your man!”

“Only if you rein in yours!”

“Iwa-chan and I aren’t—”

“Oh shut up with that already!”

Kenma, small and agile, stepped out the side and fired two shots, the bullets scattered like water out of a sprinkler, knocking back a large crowd of vampires. Suga and Akaashi immediately stepped in to finished them off. Suga jammed the blade of the chainsaw into one, going for the head, but another stepped in and took the wound to the chest instead. Akaashi came to his side and helped Suga violently jerk the chainsaw upwards to cut through the whole torso, neck and then the skull. Blood sprayed out from the bodies around them like geysers, organs fell to the floor with sickening squelches and the screams never stopped.

It wasn’t long before they were overwhelmed, though. Like the shoot out at the OK Corral, they were pinned against the wall, bullet running low and their energy drained. They were caged in by the reaching, grasping claws and the hungry, crimson eyes bored holes into them as they inched along the wall, slowly getting closer and closer to the hallways that would lead to the rooms, Iwaizumi still leading the charge.

Suga could see Oikawa glancing at Iwaizumi, anxiety clearly shining through his tired, brown eyes. “Iwa-chan, are you holding up all right?”

“I’m _fine_!” Iwaizumi snarled with gritted teeth, his brows furrowed to together in concentration. He glanced back at Oikawa, a plea to trust him. However, they could all see that the weight of machine was finally taking a tole on him, his arms quaking from holding it up for so long now. “Don’t worry about me!”

Oikawa pursed his lisp together for a second before deciding, “Kuroo, go help Iwa-chan! We’ll double our efforts back here to make up for the loss!”

But it was too late.

One vampire, slithering through the masses like a snake, managed to surprise Iwaizumi by popping up on his side of the lawn mower. Before he could react, the vampire latched his teeth on Iwaizumi’s neck with mocking grin and a snarl. All of them fell still for only a moment as the shock rushed through them like arraign waves.

Oikawa was the first one to move, a mournful screamed ripped from his throat, his eyes swirling with pure malice and murder as he leapt at the vampire, wrapping the chain around his neck and yanking. The vampires surrounding them backed away in alarm, their eyes wide with apologies, at the sight of one of their own chained up like a dog, whimpering and screamed as he clawed at the blessed chains choking him. Still holding onto the chain, Oikawa reached down and gather Iwaizumi in his arms, the fresh blood seeping into his already bloodied clothes and he ran, carrying his best friend like he weighed nothing. The others followed as closely behind him as they could, finding it hard to match his speed. The vampire was dragged behind them, still coughing and shrieking.

Reaching the hallway, finally, Oikawa handed iwaizumi off to Kuroo, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi, who all visibly struggled to hold up the mercenary. “Get to the room,” he ordered. “I’ll follow just behind you, but get in the fucking room. Now.”

“Oikawa, you’re coming with us—” Kuroo started, shaken.

“ _I SAID GO!_ ” Oikawa snarled at him, baring his teeth like a hissing cat.

To their horror, his eyes were lit with the same red as the vampires chasing them, only his weren’t lit by hunger and desire, but with purest color of loathing. He turned to the vampires and opened his mouth like he was he was dying to sink his teeth into them, also handing Akaashi the leash of the chained vampire.

“I have some vampires I need to make into corpses!”

“Oikawa?” Suga tried, apprehension making his voice crack.

But Oikawa was long gone, running away from them with a speed that was inhuman and leaping into the horde of vampires. The masses swallowed him up, and they could barely make out his form as he ripped the vampires around him limb from limb with a viciousness that was akin to a rabid animal. However, now that the monsters were focused on him, that gave the others the opportunity to make it into Iwaizumi’s room, the fourth door on the first floor.

Slamming, the door closed, Suga sank agains the wood, short of breath, Akaashi sinking down beside him. Exhaustion overcame him and he was suddenly aware of how heavy his whole body felt, how damp with blood he was, even noticed that he’d endured a couples harsh scratches. The pain was beginning to set in as his adrenaline began to fade away.

Hinata rushed towards the both of them, leaving Ennoshita’s side to leap into Akaashi’s arms for a hug, crying into the mercenary’s shirt.

“You . . . saw that too, right?” Suga panted, reaching over and petting Hinata’s orange hair kindly. “I wasn’t hallucinating, there wasn’t blood in my eyes? Oikawa really did have . . .”

“He had their eyes,” Akaashi confirmed in a small voice that betrayed his otherwise calm exterior, “but he was still very much Oikawa-san. If he was a vampire like the ones we’re fighting, I doubt he would’ve cared as deeply about Iwaizumi-san as he always has. Still, it was very . . .”

“Unnerving,” Kenma finished, nodding his head in agreement. He leaned on the shotgun, gripping the muzzle so hard his knuckles turned white. “Keiji, do you think Tooru’s gonna be okay out there? He’s all alone.”

A strangled groan of pain pulled their attention away from that subject, to look at Iwaizumi. Suga sucked in a breath and he felt his stomach roll as he saw how shredded the skin at his neck was. Iwaizumi was gently placed on the bed, and Yamaguchi rushed to the bathroom to find some towels and warm water. There mercenary was pale and eerily still, his mouth hanging open a little bit of blood dribbling out.

Kuroo turned to them, his eyes a little glassy, and he he shook his head, breathing heavily. “If we don’t stop the bleeding, find something to help him, then Iwaizumi’s going to die,” he said, answering the unasked question lingering in their minds. “That _fucker_ —” he spat venom in the direction of the vampire writhing in pain on the floor “—punctured an artery. Iwaizumi’s on borrowed time if we don’t do something and soon.”

“It’s funny when you think about it, really,” the vampire rasped out, chuckling despite the searing pain in his throat. “It’s the same joy you feel when you watch a pathetic insect die.”

“YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

The door to the room was forced open, powerfully enough to move both Akaashi and Suga from their spots, and there was Oikawa Tooru, freshly covered from head to toe in blood until the only color discernible on him were his enraged, brown eyes. They could see deep gashes going up his arms and legs, and even littering his neck, but he moved like he wasn’t experiencing any pain whatsoever.

He stepped forwards the vampire, ignoring everyone else int eh room who cried out joyfully at his safe return, and grabbed the monster by the chain and twisted cruelly.

“If you know what’s good for you,” Oikawa snarled, “you won’t call my Iwaizumi Hajime an insect ever again. What you will do is this: tell me everything;. What do you shitheads want with Hinata Shouyou?”

“Only because you’re my new baby brother,” the vampire cooed, reaching up and patting Oikawa’s cheek mockingly. He glanced over at Hinata and licked his lips, hungry purr escaping him. “The moonrise marks the time vampires can roam and feed on the living. It has been this way since the beginning of time, little brother, to lessen our damage on human populations. I discovered the Hinata family, hidden away in a small corner of the world. I smelled the angel blood coursing through their veins, and I discovered it tasted of fire and sunlight and pure magic.”

Oikawa delivered a brutal punch to the vampire’s face, knocking out one of the sharp fangs. “Get to the fucking point already.”

The vampire chuckled darkly. “Drinking the blood of someone who carries angel blood allows us to walk in daylight. That child is the key to vampires drinking the entirety of humans dry, the key to world where vampires reign supreme.” He leaned up and sneered in Oikawa’s face. “If Father drinks soon, you’ll never be able to hide from him. He’ll find you and make you his favorite.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RIP Iwa-chan


	4. STUCK IN THE MIDDLE WITH YOU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trying to make some sense of it all,  
> But I can see that it makes no sense at all  
> Is it cool to go to sleep on the floor?  
> ‘Cause I don’t think that I can take anymore  
> Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right  
> Here I am, stuck in the middle with you  
> —Stuck In The Middle With You by Stealers Wheel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's been a while . . . I'm sorry it's been so long since I updated this, but a combination of health issues as well as theatre and classes really made it impossible for me to work editing this until very recently! So, I hope this is okay.

_“I look at you all, see the love there that’s sleeping_

_While my guitar gently weeps_

_I look at the floor and I see it needs sweeping_

_Still my guitar gently weeps”_

A sanctuary is a place you can run to for safety when the rest of the world turns against you. The fourth room on the first floor was very much a sanctuary to the ragtag group of survivors.

All was eerily quiet within the room and even outside it, a moment of silence as the predators prowled around them. The vampires had dispersed from Iwaizumi’s door to cover more ground throughout the hotel, like ethyl might find some other way into the barricaded room. Occasionally, they could all hear a hungry snarl as one passed by, or one of their haunting voices singing, “sunshine,” with a tone similar to a lullaby. Inside the room, however, was a silent panic that had everyone locked in nervous, like there was knife against their throats.

 _“I don’t how nobody told you_ _How to unfold your love_ _I don’t know how, someone controlled you_ _They bought and sold you”_

It really was the calm before a raging storm, and they all knew it was. They could feel it. The thin hairs on their forearms and the back of their necks standing on edge like needles. They needed to act now, to go on the offensive before the vampires could get the drop in them, but their leader, Oikawa Tooru, was collapsed on the bed beside Iwaizumi, gently strumming on his guitar and singing under his breath.

Suga could see that playing was helping calm them all, but it was luring Oikawa into a false sense of hope, convincing himself that if he kept playing then Iwaizumi would hear him and wake. It was sad to watch, really.

“Oikawa?” Kuroo tried, as gingerly as he could, considering the situation. He placed a hand on his leader’s shoulder and gave him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. “What are we going to do now, buddy?” When he got no response, just more distracted strums of cords, he sighed and turned to walk to the other side of the room.

Kenma sat on the floor of the bed, playing with the stray strings sprouting from the hem of his sweater. Suga watched him sit in silence for a little bit until Kenma turned to Oikawa and asked, “What are you playing, Tooru?”

_“I look at the world and I notice it’s turning_

_While my guitar gently weeps_

_With every mistake, we must surely be learning_

_Still my guitar gently weeps”_

Suga recognized it, obviously, even if his English was a little rusty since school. The Beatles. It was a very vague song. He knew a lot of people debated its meaning. However, he thought it fit Oikawa very well at the moment, a sea of guilt, resentment and loss. It was simply what he was feeling. He sang the song as if he could play and play, and any minute now, Iwaizumi would sit up, right as rain.

Still, Suga was startled by Oikawa’s adamant silence towards his friends. When Suga looked at Oikawa now, he saw Icarus flying too close to the sun. Earlier, he had thought about he was jealous of Oikawa having something that defined him so clearly, something that him someone special in a grand storyline. Oikawa was Icarus, ambitious and high flying and daring, but his wings were Iwaizumi, and with his wings melted and burned, he was crashing hard and fast, having flown too close to the sun.

Suga supposed he was grateful to be just a bit more independent than OIkawa was, but his heart ached to have that level of closeness with someone like what Oikawa had with Iwaizumi. He did envy Oikawa for being so obviously being in love with Iwaizumi, having someone so precious but out of reach because he was too scared to break what he had already. And vice versa with Iwaizumi. However, he truly didn’t envy Oikawa’s current pain, though. He didn’t envy how Oikawa was beating himself up inside, blaming himself, cursing himself, for Iwaizumi getting hurt.

Closing his eyes, listening to Oikawa’s lonely humming, Suga could almost see when he and Oikawa were in high school, young and ambitious and stupid. He could see Oikawa in their volleyball uniform, running and jumpingto make one killer serve after the next that smashed through the defense of the opposing teams, the flash of pure delight and uninhibited pride in his eyes as Suga was forced to do nothing more than watch and admire Oikawa’s skills from the sidelines. It seemed that times hadn’t really changed all that much since then. Oikawa was still running ahead and impressing and breaking down barriers and Suga . . . Well, Suga was still Sugawara Koushi. Good but not good enough to matter in the grand scheme of things. Something irked him, though, as he thought like that.

OIkawa had purposefully sought him out, remembered him as someone special and trusted him enough to seek sanctuary. It did make him feel like he was a part of something important, like Oikawa had wanted to incorporate him in this story, no matter how bloody it was. Oikawa had seen his strength and thought that Sugawara Koushi was more than enough, someone really important.

“This is all grossly endearing,” the vampire drawled, his sharp tongue cutting through the tense room like a knife through silk, “but if you’re going to keep moping about, could you kindly release me so I won’t have to be so dreadfully bored?” Oikawa’s eyes darted over to the vampire, narrowing dangerously and making the monster bow his head in submission. “My most sincerest apologies, fledgling, but you must understand that I can no longer comprehend your sentimentality towards this ugly human of yours. At some point, when I was human myself, I may have, but I became a vampire to give all that up, that disease called kindness.”

“You’re a disease,” Kuroo shot back tiredly. “Seriously, dude, have you seen your pallor? That’s not a sign of health.”

“What’s your name?” Oikawa asked hollowly, like there was nothing left in him. He set his guitar down with care, and pulled out a knife from his jacket pocket. The vampire only smirked up at him haughtily. “Don’t try and be smart with me. Just tell me your fucking name.”

“Daishou Suguru. At your service, fledgling,” the vampire grinned, baring a nice of teeth that had been reddened by Iwaizumi’s blood. “You do remember me, don’t you, fledgling? I held you down while your glorious king bit into that pretty neck of yours.”

Oikawa touched the bandage on his neck and grimaced at the flood of memories, the excruciating pain and the crushing anxiety. “I remember you just fine,” he gritted out, his voice trembling like he he was not eh brink of tears.

Akaashi reached down and grasped Suga’s hand in his.

Oikawa stalked closer to the vampire, and crouched down in front of him. “This might come as a surprise to you, but I don’t care that you hurt me. I don’t care about me. You can kill me, sell me, tear me down, torture me, make me into a monster like you, because I don’t give a shit about me.”

He pointed back at Iwaizumi, who was lying limp and breathing unevenly on the bed. “You fucked up when you bit my Iwaizumi Hajime. I love him more than anything else, have loved him since I was a stupid ten-year-old kid. I love him because no matter how much of an asshole I became, no matter how lost in the stars I got, he was always there to bring me back down to Earth. You know what else?”

The knife suddenly ripped across Daishou’s throat, leaving the monster to fall back and writhe in pain, screaming like an injured quarry. The blade was steaming like it was hot as the vampire’s blood dissolved into nothing.

“If someone ever kidnapped him, I would tear apart every building, every hideout, in the world until I found him. If someone killed him, I would burn down the entire fucking world to make everyone else feel my pain. I would kill anyone and anything that dares to get in my way of avenging him or saving him. So, tell me, you little snake,” Oikawa growled, holding the knife right above Daishou’s right eye, “are you still laughing at my pain?”

“He loves Iwaizumi that much?” Suga whispered in awe. He . . . Wow, he wanted that. Badly. Subtly, he glanced at the katana-katana-wielding killer sitting beside him and noticed Akaashi’s glassy eyes as he watched Oikawa confront the vampire.

“I don’t think anyone has ever loved as fiercely as Oikawa-san loves Iwaizumi-san,” Akaashi replied, swallowing the lump in his throat. “He’s tearing himself up inside right now, blaming himself. If we’re not careful, he’ll follow through with what he just promised.”

“Human pains will always be hilarious to immortal and undead beings like myself,” Daishou sighed, clearly bored. “Since you’re so desperate to save him, though, and since you’ve given me a good laugh, I’ll tell you a little secret about vampires, newborn fledgling.” He offered Oikawa another toothy grin, flashing his fangs with a hiss as the knife came up again. “Vampires are actually very similar to venomous snakes. If a vampire bites down as a warning or as nothing more Thant o cause a flesh wound, to scare, that’s called a dry bite. The poor human can do nothing but bleed out, but it’ll never become a vampire. It’ll just die. However, if we really sink our fangs in with the intent to create another vampire . . .”

Oikawa’s eyes lit up. Hope betrayed the cold, murderous exterior he’d put on for confronting the vampire. They all felt it, a light in the dark night, that Iwaizumi could make it through this because of the vampire’s greed and need to create.

“Did you—” Oikawa started, his voice shaking.

“No!” Daishou laughed loudly, making himself more than comfortable as he leaned back against the plush cushion of the chair sitting behind him. He dashed their hopes with an ugly cackle and a crazed, hungry look in his eyes. “No, no! Of course not! I would never! I have no intention of making an insect like him a vampire! Look at him! He’s nothing like you. He’s only a weakness for someone as strong as you. I just wanted to see what you would do. If you bite him with intent, you make him into a fast healing, monstrous fledgling just like you, but oh? Would he ever forgive you for turning him into such a beast? He probably already hats you for being one to begin with.”

“Kuro, wait!” Kenma reached out to stop his boyfriend, but Kuroo was already swinging his leg out to deliver a brutal blow to the vampire’s jaw, effectively breaking it. Suga covered Hinata’s eyes as there was a large spray of blood from Daishou’s slit throat.

Kuroo then whirled on Oikawa, grabbed him by the lapels of his jean jacket and hefted him up, dragging him back towards the bed where iwaizumi rested. “You know exactly what you have to do, Oikawa! This is Iwaizumi we’re talking about here. You shouldn’t even be hesitating!”

“I don’t want him to hate me!” Oikawa sobbed miserably, limp like a corpse as he was held up by his friend/ “I couldn’t live with myself if he hated me, Kuroo! He’s the one person, the only one that matters because he cares about me like no one else does!”

“Oikawa, you know we all care about you,” Akaashi spoke up, carefully.

“BULLSHIT!” Oikawa screamed, so loud and red, writhing in Kuroo’s grip until the other had no choice but to let him stand on his own. He staggered to his feet like he was drunk, tears streaming down his face, washing away some of the clumps of dried blood. “You all know as well as I do that your loyalty and “friendship” to me was built on favors I accumulated from saving your asses! Kuroo will always save Kenma over any of us, and Kenma would do the same for him! Bokuto would leave us all in the dust if it meant saving you, Akaashi, and you fucking know it!—” Suga saw Akaashi flinched like he’d just been slapped across the face “—But Iwaizumi! He . . . He loves me, right? Doesn’t he?”

“Do you really still doubt that he loves you, after all this fucking time?” Kuroo demanded, gradually losing his temper. “i’ve had enough of this will-they-won’t-they shit! Of course he loves you, Oikawa! I’ve heard the smitten fucker jerk off to the thought of you before! That! That was not a fun night for me, but I can tell you that he definitely loves you and fantasizes about you!”

“He’s never said it to me! I . . . I need to hear him say it before I even think to live on that goddamn prayer, Kuroo!”

“Then bite him and find out,” Kenma whispered, as loud as a hurricane. He tightened the bandage around Iwaizumi’s neck before walking over to Oikawa and holding his leader’s face in his hands. From Kenma, that was almost as good as a hug. “Who cares if that’s exactly what the vampire wants you to do? All that matters is that Hajime would be back, right, Tooru?”

“He could never hate you, Oikawa-san,” Akaashi added kindly. “Even if he hates what he’ll become, then he will find comfort in the fact that you’ll be there with him, by his side, because he does love you. As we all know, it’s just that Iwaizumi-san sucks at putting things into words.”

Daishou’s laughter broke through their comfort, and the very sound had Oikawa gritted his teeth and sneering at the monster. “Such a paradox you are. You are Oikawa Tooru, yet not Oikawa Tooru. An immortal yet uselessly human and frightened. You are at a precipice, a cliff. One misstep and you plummet to your death, but one leap and you’ll fly like a bird of prey. The choice is up to you, fledgling. Save your love and live with his hatred, or let him die now, when he did love you.”

Red eyes and white smiles flashed through the glass in the windows, and suddenly Daishou’s voice was no longer alone, but a plethora of pitches and songs. “And if he doesn’t love you, you know we always will because Father always will, Oikawa Tooru.”

* * * * * *

The bathroom was bright, a welcomed embrace of light, and spotless thanks to Tsukishima’s daily cleaning. It was where the group had decided to begin sewing up and treating wounds. Kuroo and Kenma had finished, and so had Yamaguchi and Tsukishima, so last was Suga and Akaashi, and Hinata had come along with them like loyal puppy at their heels. Akaashi had treated himself first, only a few cuts here and there, and now it was Suga’s turn.

“Ow! Fu—I mean, fun times! Yes, I really do love searing pain,” Suga lied, biting his lip harshly to keep from swearing in front of Hinata, who was currently holding onto Suga’s torn shirt sleeve as if to comfort him. The kid offered him a bright and sunny smile. Gods that kid was fucking adorable, and made what the vampires had done to him all the more evil. Suga’s eyes landed on the claw marks and slices across Hinata’s neck and wrists. His sympathetic thoughts were broken when another splash of cold alcohol ran across the gash in his skin. “Ow! Akaashi, that hurt!”

“Given how deep the cut is, I’m surprised it doesn’t hurt more,” Akaashi replied, cracking a small grin. He reached into the medical bag and pulled out some gauze and bandages. “It’s a good thing Iwaizumi-san is always so prepared. He brought every weapon I’ve ever seen him use, an endless supply of bullets and enough medical equipment to get us through an apocalypse. He probably knew he would be taking care of Oikawa-san, as per usual, but thanks to his preparedness, we might actually be able to wait this out.”

Akaashi took another cloth and started cleaning one of the deeper cuts in Suga, digging his finger in to get out the chunks of undead flesh.

“Ow!” Sign cried out again. His eyes started watering and he slammed his foot down again and again just to move as if that might ease the pain even a little bit. “How old are you to be treating me like this, Akaashi? I’m delicate, you know?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I have to get the stray pieces of guts out of you before we can bandage it up,” Akaashi reminded him. “We don’t know what kind of infections they’ll cause if I don’t. Wait—Oh, that looks like some brain matter.” He wrinkled his nose in disgust and tossed the grey strands into the sink.

Suga gagged at the sight of it, really feeling his stomach turn.

“And I’m twenty-four.”

He’s younger than me, Suga thought to himself, but acting so much capable. That’s embarrassing.

Suga finally managed to shake away the nausea he was enduring when he glanced up at Akaashi, feeling a mixture of jealousy and awe as he observed that Akaashi was still unfairly gorgeous even when blood was smeared across his face like warpaint. In fact, it added a layer of sexiness to him. A vengeful angel, delicate but incredibly dangerous. He sort of liked the fact that Akaashi wasn’t the type to crack jokes every two seconds. He liked that Akaashi wasn’t overbearing. He liked that Akaashi didn’t think of Suga as too soft to sight for himself. It felt like Akaashi truly appreciated him as himself, not as the pretty, obedient Sugawara Koushi many wanted Suga to be 24/7. Akaashi seemed to admire Suga’s sarcasm, his resolve and his strength.

No one had looked at him like that before. It was refreshing. All of Suga’s previous boyfriends were overbearing to an obnoxious extent.

“You know,” Suga started, clearing his throat. His heart was hammering in his chest as he realized just how close he was sitting to Akaashi, their thighs touching. Akaashi’s touches left sparks of fire in their wake as he administered care to Suga’s wounds. He smiled, shakily, feeling like a dumb teenager in love all over again. “We made a pretty good team out there, didn’t we? Me, knowing the vampires back, and then you going in for the kill. We oddly work well together. A pretty, killer duo, huh?”

“We do,” Akaashi nodded, glancing up to meet Suga’s gaze for a split second. His steel blue-green eyes softened and made Suga’s pulse skyrocketed in surprise. “I just want to know, though. You’re not too shaken up, are you? Killing for the first time, especially under these circumstances, would be frightening for anyone. Are you doing okay?”

“Yeah, but . . .”

Suga hesitated because it, killing, should make him feel way more guilty, and he felt wrong just realizing that he’d been killing without think about it all that hard. Clear conscience and all, as if his sense of morality had completely abandoned him. It was wrong to kill people. People were flesh and blood and heart and feelings and anger and sadness. These vampires, though, well . . .

“I guess that I’m not so shaken up about because I know they’re not human. It might be entirely different if they were _living, breathing people_ that didn’t suck people’s blood, killing others to stay alive. Maybe that’s it, because . . . I don’t think I could do it if they were human, you know?”

“Maybe it’s that you actually have a competent survival instinct,” Akaashi added helpfully. He wrapped a bandage around Suga’s biggest cut, satisfied with the cleaning job. “There are times when morals get int eh way of keeping you alive. A friend of Kuroo-san’s, Sawamura Daichi, had upstanding morals vu they got in the way of him completing a job one day. He refused to kill or even pair up with someone who was killing to kill in his place. He died, alone, because his scruples got in the way of keeping himself running.”

“Oh,” Suga whispered, an edge of sympathy making it way into his voice. “Did you know him well?”

“Everyone knew Sawamura Daichi,” Akaashi replied fondly. “Kuroo had it bad for him. At the time, he thought Kenma only saw him as nothing than a friend and started crushing on Sawamura-san. However, he seen saw, like every else did, that Sawamura-san was devoted to his cause and only his cause. Then Kuroo-san took a chance and told Kenma his feelings, which were obviously reciprocated. In the end, though, everyone still had a thing for Sawamura Daichi.”

“Even you?” Suga asked before he could stop himself.

Akaashi looked up at him, lingering this time, an unbroken, amused gaze. “Fine. Almost everyone. He wasn’t really my type,” he answered, shrugging. He reached out and ran a hand through Suga’s hair, using his nails to pick out the clumps of dried, coagulated blood. “Though, I didn’t know my type until very recently,” he confessed.

“Your boyfriend, that Bokuto, must be very lucky, then. To be, you know, your type and all,” Suga said, testing the waters. He had been very confused when Oikawa had dropped Bokuto’s name like that, making Akaashi flinch.

“I—Um, Bokuto-san isn’t my boyfriend.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” Akaashi continued, giving Suga a brief, bashful smile, “yet.”

“Oh?”

 _Oh. Oh! Holy shit. He’s talking about me. I’m his type? I’m his type!_ “I don’t have a boyfriend either!” Suga blurted out clumsily after stumbling over his words for a second. _Smooth, Suga, real smooth._ “But I’m looking at one—I mean, I’m looking for one.”

Akaashi laughed, a sound that while soft was so bright and angelic that Suga’s mouth dropped open in awe because holy shit how can someone be that gorgeous? And almost as soon as it started, the laughter died away and Akaashi lowered his head in shame.

“As much as I would to continue flirting with you, Sugawara Koushi, and forget the night we’re currently trapped in, I feel guilty about being so happy right now when I know Oikawa-san is suffering like he is.”

Right. Oikawa. Currently, their brave leader was hovering over Iwaizumi, beating himself up inside with question after question. Would Iwaizumi even want this? And if he didn’t, do I just let him die? Risk losing him just like that? Would he even want to come back? Would he forgive me?

Suga didn’t envy Oikawa’s mental state right now, but definitely understood where Akaashi was coming from. Not just because Oikawa would be jealous, though he would try his best to hide it, only revealing his envy through passive aggressive comments, but because there was a bigger task at hand. Surviving the night. They needed Oikawa to have his head clear and to make a decision so they could come together and formulate some sort of plan.

Still, Suga was impatient, driven, and selfish at times, and he wanted this. Oh gods did he want this moment of happiness in what seemed like a never ending night. He wanted to be close, he wanted to be kissed and held. He wanted what was just within his reach. However, the reality of the situation rested on his shoulders agains, freezing him in place.

“You’re right,” Suga nodded, as he pictured Oikawa’s mournful, glassy eyes flashing through his mind. “We need to worry about Iwaizumi first before anything else. But after?”

“Definitely,” Akaashi confirmed. They took each other’s hand and stood, not quite flush against one another but close enough to feel the heat between them. “Do me a favor: Don’t die on me. I actually really do like you.”

“I could say the same to you,” Suga laughed, raising an eyebrow.

Akaashi said something else, probably something worthwhile, but Suga wasn’t entirely paying attention because, for the first time, he was noticing that Akaashi was taller than him. This irked him, just a hair. Suga wasn’t considered short by any means, but he had the temperament of a person when confronted a smug, tall asshole when it came to his height.

It ended up not mattering in the end, though, because they were leaning towards each other. Height didn’t matter anymore. He was going to be kissing a criminal that was trying to go the straight and narrow, the criminal he’d spent the night killing vampires with.

Well, all right, his love life had certainly gotten a bit more complicated than he was planning for it to ever be, but at least he had a love life now. Fucking sweet.

Just a little bit closer and . . .

“Are you gonna kiss?!” Hinata asked loudly, effectively ruining the moment between them.

Kids.

Hinata sat up in the bathtub and scooted closer like he wanted to watch, utterly fascinated. His cute face was alight with such joy that Suga just couldn’t stay mad at him. Again, kids.

“So, boys can kiss other boys?” Hinata asked. “Does that mean I can kiss Kageyama when I get back home? He’s my best friend even though he’s mean, but I think he can be really cool too!”

Akaashi was frozen and he glanced at Suga was who absolutely beaming at the kid. “What do we do?” Akaashi whispered. “We are not his parents. It’s not for to tell him—”

“I can hear you talking!” Hinata exclaimed, crossing his arms and giving them a pout. Akaashi winced slightly and offered the kid a bashful smile. “Mommy and Daddy do the same thing! They whisper about me when I’m right here. It’s like when the other kids on the playground don’t want to play with me!”

Suga smiled warmly and dropped to his knees in front of Hinata, smoothing out the kid’s wiry, ginger hair. “Hinata,” he started. “You know how your mommy and daddy love each other very much?”

Hinata nodded vigorously.

“Well, boys can love boys and girls can love girls just like that. There are even boys and girls that love both boys and girls too. Now, you’re too young to go around kidding whatever boy or girl catches your fancy—” Hinata pouted again, fuck that was adorable “—but when you grow up, fall in love, whether they’re a boy or a girl or neither, you’ll get to shower them in kisses all you want.“

Hinata smiled giddily, bouncing on the balls of his feet with glee. “That sounds fun! I can’t wait to kiss boys when I grow up!”

And with that, he skipped out of the room, probably to go find Kenma.

Suga laughed, doubling over and clutching his stomach. He looked up at Akaashi, cheeks flushed an uncontrollable smile lit up the delicate features of his face.

Akaashi’s heart fluttered wildly as Suga pointed after Hinata’s retreating figure and said, “Fucking same!”

* * * * * *

Oikawa could feel their approach, their cold breath on the back of his neck, their teeth closing in for the kill.

The end of the world for the small group of humans started off as a whisper lost in the wind, barely audible and unforgettable, with the growls and hungry moans resonating in the empty space around them, like a pack of wolves moving in on their quarry. The gasps grew into battlecries, an incessant chanting of “Sunshine! Sunshine! Sunshine!” and scratches on the wooden floors above them sounded like nails on a chalkboard. The desperate rawness of the voices rattled the humans to their bones, and their very presence was driving Oikawa further and further into his consuming hunger.

His teeth were sore and aching from holding himself back for so long now.

Oikawa stared emptily at Iwaizumi’s bleeding wounds. Gods how he wanted to sink his teeth into the perfectly tawny skin of his best friend, secure their future together by turning Iwaizumi into a fledgling like him, but Iwaizumi was too good for that. Too good for him. Oikawa thought of himself a corrupt and ugly jerk, had known that he was his whole life, but his best friend always managed to see the good in him, saw something redemptive.

“Are you hungry, Tooru?” Kenma asked, his golden eyes locked onto Oikawa like he could see right through him, read his thoughts. Piercing and analytical.

Oikawa swilled thickly and resigned himself to biting Iwaizumi, but as he thought about it, he knew he would have to wait until the opportune moment. However, that only lengthened Iwaizumi’s time in pain.

Oikawa avoided answering as he cast his eyes to the bathroom from which Suga and Akaashi emerged, smiles and giggles. That was rare for Akaashi, but it really was a sight to behold. At the sight of them, he managed a fond smile as he watched them stand so close together as they double checked on another’s wounds.

He knew that Akaashi was trying to go the straight and narrow, and he knew that introducing him to Suga would give him the push he needed to finally leave crime behind him. Also, Akaashi would help Suga grow in confidence and help him see himself as someone truly incredible. They would be good for each other, protect each other and listen to each other. They worked.

Hinata bounded up to Kuroo like an excited puppy, pulling at his long coat until the mercenary leaned down and let Hinata climb onto his back.

“So, what do we do know?” Kuroo asked, trying to get the ball rolling. “We know that vampires aren’t the biggest fans of sunlight, which is why they’re trying to get some of Chibi-chan’s blood. We know that religious objects work on them. We don’t know why they can’t get into the room, though.”

“They weren’t invited,” Kenma supplied helpfully. “In TV shows like _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ , if you don’t invite a vampire into your room or house, then they can’t get in. However, in Bram Stoker’s _Dracula_ , that isn’t necessarily true. An open window was more than enough of an invitation for Dracula to get into rooms and bite girls, so that might be why the vampires are still looking for a way in.”

There was a heavy crash above them and the ceiling looked like it was ready to give way at any moment.

“Then how’d they get into my motel?” Suga demanded, crossing his arm and arching an eyebrow inquisitively. “Neither myself or any of my staff invited them in, and I never have the windows open unless guests request for them to be open.”

Kenma thought for a moment, but then perked up, saying, “Well, there’s a welcome mat outside your front doors, right? It says, “All Are Welcome!” if I’m not mistaken.”

“Wait,” Suga gaped, rubbing his face with hands out of stress, “Are you actually telling me that my hospitality is the reason e might all die tonight? Because of a cheap ass welcome mat I got a yard sale?”

“That is exactly what I’m saying, yes,” Kenma nodded, with no hint of humor. He shifted on the bed to make himself more comfortable. He pulled some of the blankets around himself like he was cold. “Doesn’t matter how, thought. What’s done is done. What else do we know about vampires?”

“Holy water,” Tsukishima supplied,grabbing a piece of paper of the notepad on the bedside table. He started jotting down what Kenma and Kuroo had said earlier. “They can’t stand that shit.”

“Oh, great thought, Glasses-kun!” Kuroo praised sarcastically. Tsukishima narrowed his eyes dangerously at the new nickname. “That would be super helpful if any of us had any of that magical Jesus Mojo called christian faith but 1) none of us here want that shit, and 2) there’s no such thing as God or gods in this world.”

“Isn’t that what you said about vampires after watch From Dusk Till Dawn?” Kenma asked. Ennoshita grinned at the mention of the title, whispering to himself about what a good movie that was. “Didn’t you say that the movie was totally unrealistic because there was no way that vampires could ever be real?”

“I have since been proven wrong,” Kuroo allowed, “but solely because of recent, undeniable proof.” He glanced around the room. “What else do we know?”

“The whole garlic legend probably holds little weight to it, and they’re only really affected baby metal that’s been previously blessed, if I remember my movies right. Oh! They also don’t like fire,” Yamaguchi exclaimed helpfully. “In every iteration of vampires, there’s the lingering legend that they hate fire. It might be because of how fragile their bodies are that they’re flammable. Could we do something with that?”

Oikawa raised his head and turned towards Ennoshita. “You came up with the lawn mower idea,” he said. “You got anything else?”

“But your friend got hurt because of my idea,” Ennoshita fretted anxiously. “So, it really wasn’t a good idea—”

“Fuck you, it was a brilliant idea,” Oikawa snapped viciously.

He wasn’t going to stand by by and let someone else blame themselves for Iwaizumi’s pain when it was clearly Oikawa’s fault to begin with. He involved everyone her win his problem. If anyone got hurt, it was on Oikawa and Oikawa alone.

“We all knew the dangers of putting that plain into action, but it worked. We killed dozens of them and made it here, didn’t we? If you have something else, please, fucking share because I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”

Everyone in the room looked to the chef expectantly, without hesitation, waiting to see what his plan might be. Ennoshita blinked, hesitantly stepping back timidly under the weight of the helpers gazes, his mouth falling open ever so slightly. “You’d trust me with this?”

The growls and snarls grew to a crescendo into screams as Oikawa stood up. He motioned to all of them, looking Ennoshita right in the eyes. “None of us have the slightest clue of what to do, so you’re the last prayer. Even if it’s not foolproof, it’s something, and that’s a million times better than nothing, all right? Hit us with a plan, Chef-chan.”

Ennoshita nodded vigorously and took a deep breath. “All right, so, Kenma mentioned From Dusk Till Dawn earlier and it got me thinking about the very beginning of the film. So, the Gecko brothers are at a gas station and . . .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe Iwa-chan's still dead. RIP, my dude.

**Author's Note:**

> [CHECK OUT THE BEAUTIFUL ART KAT CREATED FOR THE FIC](http://kat-doodles.tumblr.com/post/180904031431/for-hqbb-18-i-did-art-for-two-fics-the-first-one) When I saw it, I literally started to cry it's so gorgeous! Please be sure to send her all the love and appreciation! She worked so hard and perfectly captured the scene and I'm so grateful to have been given the amazing opportunity to work with her!
> 
> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated! Thank you so much for reading!!!!


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